Give Me Love
by truglasgowgal
Summary: When Chuck's life takes an unexpected turn, his friends are there to help him through it; but can Blair be a part of his future now it's shifted outwith his control?
1. Prologue

Don't ask me where this came from, it stemmed from an idea that could possibly be considered as crack-like as the show, but whatever, it's done now – if you take the time to read, please let me know your thoughts, much appreciated :)  
>(Also, for anyone reading any of my <em>still <em>unfinished fics, (oops :/) I am working on them, this just would not leave me and I've been writing it non-stop for the last few days now so yeah, it jumped up the priority list ahead of anything else, sorry.)  
>Hope you enjoy...<p>

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> Give Me Love  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> As always, I only own what you don't recognise from the show. Title from the Ed Sheeran song of the same name.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> You don't bring souvenirs back from a Lost Summer; at least not _these _types of souvenirs. That sounds a lot like 'famous last words'.

.

"_Give me love like never before,  
>'cause lately I've been craving more."<br>_'_**Give Me Love,' Ed Sheeran**_

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Prologue

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"_Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here."  
><em>_**Marianne Williamson**_

.

The brunette in the delivery room screams bloody murder and holds the hand of the dark-haired male by her side in a vice-grip.

He asks the various medical staff if there's not something stronger they can give her, to ease the pain (to ease _his_ pain).

The nurse shakes her head, and the doctor tries to pacify her, tells her _just one more push_.

She grits down on her teeth and tells him if he says that one more time she's going to throw something very hard or very sharp at his face and then ask him about his pain tolerance levels.

He's clearly old enough that it would suggest he's been in the profession for a while, but she still doubts his ability since he ignores her threat and tells her instead that she's doing _great_, that she's _fine_, that they're _nearly there_.

She glowers at him and warns him not to say the next thing that she's sure is about to come out of his mouth.

Then she snappily mentions that she knows she's _fine_, she's hardly about to _die_ before she gets to meet the one who's put her through all this physical trauma, after all, but that doesn't mean it doesn't _hurt_.

She feels him give her hand a small squeeze, although frankly she could be imagining it since she doesn't know how he gets to remain intact when she's in so much pain.

And _besides_, she reminds anyone who happens to be listening; she's supposed to be _waiting_.

He said he'd be there; he _wanted _to be there, so why is everyone so damn insistent on making her do this without him?

She falls back against the bed with a weighty sigh, beads of sweat along her hairline, and a dark haired male looking down on her with the heavy mass of concern as her exhaustion seeps into the bedding currently attempting to prop her up.

From her side she hears him ask what he can do; _anything_, he says, _just name it_.

Her head lolls onto her shoulder and she looks at him with an easy, lazy smile: he's always been there for her, always been willing to do anything for her.

The doctor tells her he needs her to push again, _just one more time_, he says, _this is it_.

She manages to roll her eyes at him muttering, _you better be right this time, doc, _and though she's not at all happy about how events have escalated and how they've accelerated the timing; she's really tired, and it really hurts and she really just wants to meet her baby.

She grips his hand tighter than before, because if she's being made to do this again she's going to make sure it really is _just one more time_. She concentrates, expels her last amount of energy and feels the relief flood her soul when eventually he drops his forehead to rest on hers, fingers still clasped close together, and breathes into her hairline; _you did it._

_I did huh? _She smiles tiredly, resting her eyes along with everything else.

_Yeah, you did, _she feels him nod against her temple, his head turned slightly in the direction where she imagines her newborn is being held; she instantly wishes her baby was in her arms instead, and feels the ache in her limbs at the absence. _He's perfect._

_He? _she whispers, and he nods his confirmation as she sighs contentedly at the news. _Baby boy Bass._

He's going to be ecstatic.

She's just sorry he missed it; missed his son coming into the world.

She blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Maybe three times.

She's suddenly feeling inexplicably tired, and yet she knows this is no time for a nap.

He calls her name and she focuses on his face once again, can still feel her lips curved upwards as she says his name right back.

_Good_, he tells her, like he's coaxing a child, _that's it_, _stay with me_.

She's so engrossed in his presence that she doesn't see the doctor falter at the words; doesn't see him call over his colleagues to share anxious looks and make hushed, but hurried decisions.

His eyes keep catching the light like those little curved 'D' shapes she used to put on all her drawings of balloons as a child to make them look real, to show how they shimmered as they floated away.

He says he knows she's tired, says it like he understands, though he couldn't _possibly_.

_Don't go to sleep_, he sounds like he's pleading with her when he says that, which _she_ can't understand.

_I wouldn't_, she tells to the little frown on his face.

She leans over to trace the lines across his brow with the tip of her finger and sighs with satisfaction when she feels them relax under her touch.

_Silly_, she chides him then.

He smiles back at her as he breathes out a small sigh that smells like relief.

_I can't go to sleep, _she tells him even as she hears the sleepiness creep into her voice, _I have to meet my baby boy._

He breathes out again the same as before, but when she feels her eyes slip shut she can tell she's ruined the moment because now he's sucking in sharply and calling out her name like she's no longer right by his side.

She wonders why he sounds so far away all of a sudden; she just hopes he can still hear her.

_And I want to see Chuck's face as he holds him._

There's a harrowing sound in the background and she wonders why it feels like they're moving away when they should be moving towards whatever it is that's in such distress.

Her eyes snap open and she's met with an intense, blinding light and a feeling of unease that grips her heart.

There are people in different colored scrubs hovering above her as she lies flat on her back being wheeled towards an unknown destination.

She reaches over to grab hold of a hand on one of the bedrails, one of the many that are hurriedly taking her away from that room and along the corridor with its bright, white beams overhead and confusing chatter bouncing off the walls.

She wants to ask the woman where they're taking her; but the words never leave her tongue long enough to escape her parted lips

She wants to dig her nails into the woman's neat flesh, grip tightly onto the ridges of her knuckles so she can't let go; but she's suddenly too weak and the woman just smiles sympathetically down at her and places her other hand over their conjoined ones in some misguided attempt at comforting her.

She wants to glare at the woman and demand answers and threaten retribution if they don't _stop _and tell her where her baby is and why she's not with him; but her eyes are already slipping shut once more, sticking to her cheeks with the tears that sink from their sockets.

She can still hear that noise ringing in her ears, knows now that its echo will haunt her for life; the sound of her son crying out for his mother.

.

**_TBC…_**

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><p>I realize I probably say this with all my fics, but this isn't really like my other ones for reasons that should become clear very early on.<br>It's mostly Chuck-centric, but will have a large focus on the NJBC - I feel there should be a character option on the drop-down menu for them as a collective whole by now, but oh well, I'm telling whoever happens to be reading here instead.

Thanks for reading, feel free to drop me a line letting me know your thoughts.  
>First 'official' chapter should be up to follow shortly.<br>Steph  
>xxx<p> 


	2. Chapter 1

WARNING: there's a swear word or two at the end.

Hope you like...

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

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"_Choice, not chance, determines one's destiny."  
><em>_**Aristotle**_

.

He first sees her on the beach, down by the water's edge. She's standing facing the waves, toes sinking into the soft, wet sand beneath; seemingly enraptured by their growing momentum as they rush towards the shoreline. Her long brown locks fall in soft curls over her shoulders, the loose spirals brushing the navy band of her bikini top and teasing the golden shimmer from her skin. His eyes follow the mark of her spine down to the dip just above her polka-dot bikini bottoms and settle there, oddly enough not on her fabulously pert behind, but on the little ribbon bows on either side of her hips.

Chuck hears her squeal, a mixture of surprise and delight, and watches as she swivels on the spot, the chimes of her laughter soon following as she attempts to dodge the spray of water that splashes in her direction.

That's when he sees her face, her lips, her eyes. From the back he might've mistaken her for another, but seeing her now, even just her side-profile, he realizes she's nothing like Blair really.

Yet he's drawn to her all the same: the last girl he has during his vacation across the globe with his best friend is the one who reminds him most of his ex-lover.

She leaves his mind before he's even left the island; after all, you don't bring souvenirs back from a lost summer.

.

He's following after her, the soles of his Italian loafers pounding the pavement in sync with the fast beat of her heart.

"Jeez, slow down would you?" he tells her as he catches her by the elbow and falls in line with her. "It's hot out and this is one of my better suits."

"That's what you say about every suit you own," she remarks, casting him a sideways glance and continuing the pace she'd set when they stepped round the block.

She just laughs as the elder huffs and puffs by her side; she knows he's more agitated by the fact he can't seem to keep up with how quick her little legs are moving than the fact he might have to send his glad-rags in for a dry clean earlier than he anticipated.

"Seriously, M, you've got all that extra weight – "

"Thanks!" she interjects, shooting her brother a glare.

" – Shut up, you know what I mean," he dismisses her apparent outrage easily and continues, "And you're at _least _a head and shoulders shorter than me and you still move like you're a woman on a mission."

"Well this time, I really am," she responds simply.

She hears him drag in a breath, imagines he's rolling his eyes as well.

"M, seriously, stop a sec," he all-but demands, tugging on her arm till she slows enough so he can squeeze her elbow again and she stops, turning to face him with a huff.

"What?" she asks, looking up at him with an expectant look; they've been through this, she doesn't know what more there is to discuss.

"I just wanna make sure you know what you're doing," he explains, though he really needn't bother; she could've guessed as such.

"I do," is her short response, only he's not going to let it go that easily – he hasn't: not since she realized her mistake, not since she told him what she planned to do; not the whole cab journey that had her jumping out three blocks early and slamming the door in his face behind her or the entire walk right up to the front of the building where they now stand.

"Mir, you're my little sister and I love you. I'd do anything for you – you _know _that," he tells her gently, the palms of his hands affectionately running the length of the thin cashmere that covers her upper arms.

She does, know that is; because he has, done anything and everything for her that is.

She feels his thumb under her chin as he tips her face up to look at him.

"You don't have to do this," he says to her softly.

"You know I do," she replies, cracking a smile to try and put his mind at ease; like those tricks even work with her brother.

He nods, because all he can do is accept it now. "I know, it's just – you do this, M, and there's no going back, you're opening up a whole can of worms here and you can't undo it. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

She knows the consequences, knows what she's planned in her head might not actually come to fruition, but she's also spent her life living through the alternative and she doesn't want that for her own child.

She nods, resolute. "I've got my big brother, even if the worst happens, it'll never be the end of the world."

He shakes his head at her, rolling his eyes at her attempts to _charm _him, and loops his arm over her shoulders pulling him into her, "Come here you."

She falls into him, laughing as she nearly trips over his feet and then her own when they start towards the building once more and he's suddenly the over-protective brother again; always trying to save her.

Except this one's on her and there's only so much he can do to help; because for once, he's not the one that needs to be there for her.

.

Chuck hears the _ding _of the elevator and looks up from his place on the sofa, expecting to see his best friend step through its doors into their apartment.

What he does not expect is her.

The girl with the hair and figure like Blair's, but eyes the color of the ocean backdrop of their first encounter.

She lifts her hand up in an awkward sort of wave as she steps into the space, while he stands to cross the space between them, a frown dipping his brow at her presence.

"Hey," she says, with that same soft lilt to her voice that had mingled perfectly with the cool night breeze blowing in from the open water.

She smiles, and his eyes are drawn to those same lips, which he recalls with sudden clarity had been so fucking kissable at the time.

"Remember me?"

His gaze casts downwards and suddenly he isn't frowning anymore, so much as staring back at her with a blank canvas for disbelief.

"Yeah," she trails off, hands moving animatedly in front of her; he certainly remembers those tiny hands of hers roaming _everywhere_ on his skin. "About this…"

She drops her arms and clasps her hands over her stomach; her very large, swollen, undoubtedly _pregnant _stomach.

"We need to talk."

What the fuck has he gone and done now?

.

_TBC…_

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><p>AN: I should point out, again, while this will mainly centre around Chuck – and an OC – it will include a lot of NJBC moments and then CB, because I don't know how to escape them and don't think I ever want to find out.  
>I'm also anticipating some backlashto lose readers as this goes on, (the chapters will likely be longer from the next onwards) but such is the hazard of this kind of content, so wash. I hope you'll give it a chance – never know, it might just surprise you and you might actually enjoy reading it ;)

Thanks for reading – it'd be very much appreciated if you let me know what you thought :)  
>Steph<br>xxx


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

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"_The choices we make by accident are just as important as the choices we make by design."  
><em>_**Dr. Shad Helmstetter**_

.

"Belle," Chuck finally addresses her; fully acknowledging her presence right here and now and trying not to let the memories of how he breathed out her name as he kissed across every inch of her skin interfere with the fully clothed, city-dwelling versions of their selves. It's a tall order.

She nods, and releases a laugh in return. "Mirabel, right, so I guess you do remember me. I'm going to take that as a good sign."

"What're you – " he starts to ask, but she beats him to it before he can even finish his line of inquiry.

"You can order all the DNA tests you want, but it's most definitely yours," she blurts out; and then has the good sense to look mildly embarrassed by her outburst as she suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth and ceases from saying anything further.

She mutters a curse and slowly drops her red coat clad arm as he merely raises an eyebrow.

"You'll forgive me if I don't just take your word for it," is all he responds; appearing to still be the essence of calm even though his insides are churning and his mind seems to be on a constant stream of _what the fuck did I do?_

"Hazards of a billionaire lothario?" she remarks offhandedly at that, casting a glance around the space they stand in. The movement makes the draped handkerchief hem of her duffle coat sway from side to side and there's really no hiding the fact that she's quite far along, even if all her weight seems concentrated in her middle.

"Something like that," Chuck murmurs lifting his eyes to her face once more.

"Hmm," she nods, seems to consider this, before asking in an already too amused tine for their current situation, "So you get people saying you impregnated them often then, do you? That's really reassuring, that is."

He feels the corner of his lips tug upwards into a smirk. "Not as often as I'm sure you'd imagine. I tend to take care of my business."

"Yeah? Well, not this time – and believe me when I say, when all this is sorted, I have a serious bone to pick with you about it." She looks serious about it too.

He simply stares back at her. Of course she does. "Right."

She takes a step forward and it's like she can't stand the silence, which again throws him back to the beach in Maui because damn, could this girl talk when the mood took her; which is saying something when he's grown up around the likes of Serena.

"First of all, discounting my little lapse in judgment just prior, I should say I'm sorry for barging in on you like this – I would've called, but you know, we didn't exactly exchange numbers so yeah… I realize this is a huge issue, and I don't know if you're with someone or anything really about what's going on in your life, but I want you to know, baby aside, I really _don't _want to mess up whatever you've got going on here."

"And yet you're probably going to anyway," he deduces, throwing a look off to the side; he could _really _do with a drink right about now.

"Hey! I resent that!" she disputes with a frown, which soon morphs into what he detects as being a genuine smile as she continues, "And second, I'm telling you right now that I'm not asking anything from you – apart from the fact I'd like you to be a part of your child's life, for your sake as much as theirs – I just thought you should know."

He's eyeing her like he's trying to figure out what her angle is; she supposes she can't really blame him, _she'd_ suspect her of being brain-damaged if she wasn't so well-versed in her own erratic patterns at times.

She shrugs. "I never got the chance to know my dad; so if there's a chance my child can have theirs in their life, I don't want them to miss out on that."

"You don't even know me," he says, still watching her closely; because no one is that keen to include a virtual stranger in their life without an ulterior motive, and then he remembers Serena and how she was that summer she was Hell-bent on locating William and it makes him pause.

"We have time," is her simple response to that; like she could think of a million other hurdles that are harder to overcome than simply not knowing one another well enough.

He can have a file drawn up on her within the hour, so he supposes her implications have some base to them, but still; you can never be too cautious and besides: "Look, I don't think this is the best idea, I mean – "

"You don't think I get it?" she interrupts him again; "You're a twenty-year-old billionaire who has a reputation and a company to protect. You think a kid's not part of your lifestyle, not what you've planned for, well guess what? I didn't exactly think a holiday to Hawaii would end with me pregnant from a one-night-stand, but here we are."

He seems mildly amused by her sudden tirade, but it's a short while before he finally speaks again. "So if you know all about who I am, why did it take you so long to find me?"

She looks down, clearly dreading this question, and heaves a sigh. Dragging her eyes back up to meet him, she tells him in an almost petulant tone, "I didn't exactly realize it was yours until a short while ago, ok?"

Chuck has no intentions of hiding the smirk now. "You definitely shouldn't have any objections to me ordering a paternity test then."

"I already told you, you can run whatever tests you want – this giant belly that's playing host to a tiny human apparently intent on sapping me of all my energy and general wellbeing? It's most definitely your fault."

He laughs at that, pushes all the implications and consequences of what may or may not be happening right now to the back of his mind and delves right back into their time on a Hawaiian beach, allowing it to act as a welcome distraction – of sorts – for the time being. "Oh, I see. So the blame game's already begun, has it?"

"Hey, you started it! You were the one who approached me all dark eyes and sultry tones," is her response and then she points her finger at him accusingly, "And don't think I've forgotten about your wing-man either. He distracted my brother by suggesting a game of football further up the beach and then drinks that dragged well on into the wee hours, which gave you all the opportunity you needed to seduce me, so he's just as culpable in all this mess as far as I'm concerned."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that," is his dry retort.

Belle _hmphs_, crosses her arms over her chest and sends him a quick glare that tells him she doesn't particularly care what his best friend thinks of that, because it's true and besides, _look at her._

Yes, he manages to get all that from just one look. Evidently he's had ample time to decipher the various unspoken gestures and expressions of the fairer sex.

He's not letting her get away with it that easily, disputing, "And if I recall, you were just as much a willing participant in our little get-together as I was."

"Yes, but _I'm _not the one with the reputation to go along with it," she tartly responds, though he can see her entertained smile peeking through with every word she speaks.

Only Chuck remembers how she's tried to play hard to get; remembers how she'd enjoyed the back-and-forth as much as he had; so he replies, "No, you're just the one who looks like she belongs on some low-rent cable show about adolescent girls who're not bright enough to keep their legs shut when the first guy comes along and pays them a compliment."

She simply purses her lips and narrows her eyes at him.

And then she bites out, "You know I remember you being a lot more charming – must've been the sea-air, it clearly addled my brain enough to trick me into thinking sleeping with you was a good idea!"

"Oh, so now you're telling me I have to worry about the mother of my child being brain damaged as well as an easy lay?" he throws his hands up and inhales, "This just keeps getting better and better!"

"Ok, _one_," she pierces the air emphatically with her finger as she makes her point, "although _I_ am currently telling the truth about you being the father of my baby, you really shouldn't make comments like that so flippantly. And _two_ – I was _not_ easy, and I reserve the right to hold _major_ dislike for any insinuation to the contrary."

He inclines his head, giving her that, hiding his brief smirk. "I'll concede that; you may have a point there."

"_May_," she imitates him with a scoff, rolling her eyes in an overly dramatic fashion.

"I still caught up with you in the end, though, didn't I?" he says to that, clearly reliving the moment they finally fell into bed, tangled in the sheets, the smell of the ocean on their doorstep clinging to their skin.

"That you did," she returns with a little smile and then she tilts her head to regard him as she pats her stomach and the smile drops, and her unamused voice reminds him, "And now look where it's gotten us."

.

When he walks back into the room, she's leaning over the edge of the table slightly, raised up on her tiptoes, playing catch and release with the pool balls, watching in turn as they each either bounce off the felt-covered sides and back into her waiting hand or end up gliding into a pocket.

Her black tote is leaning against the wall to the side, with her ankle boots discarded next to it and her coat draped across the top and he ponders the notion that maybe he should've been a tad more hospitable.

She turns when she hears his footsteps on the wooden floor and he makes no move to cover the fact he was checking her out just prior to that.

"I can't believe you have monogrammed pool balls," she comments with a laugh, sinking one in the far corner pocket and falling back onto the soles of her feet once more. "That is a whole new level of pretentious."

He shrugs, clasps his hands together, and uses his signature line as explanation, "I'm Chuck Bass."

"Right, the answer to the world's problems," she replies with evident sarcasm, unconvinced.

"Not the world's, just ours," he tells her and she shakes her head at his egocentric tendencies, before he continues, "I've booked us in for a non-invasive test tomorrow. We can wait till after the baby's born for anything further."

She had been somewhat anxious when she'd suggested he could run whatever tests he wanted: she knows they're considered safe, the fact she's still carrying her baby is sort of proof of that in her case; but they still carry an element of risk to the unborn child, and she's already put her unborn child through enough trauma without adding to it if she can avoid it.

He waits a beat before adding, "If there's even any need."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes and reminds herself his skepticism is a normal reaction, especially in instances such as this. Reruns the inner monologue that tells her that just because she's had months to accept it and didn't have any say in whether the baby was biologically hers or not, doesn't mean the same can be said for him. So instead she focuses on the fact that he's bothered to be kind enough to schedule a non-invasive examination, and makes sure he's aware of her gratitude. "Thank you."

He nods; his lips pursed together as he looks away from her, appearing slightly uncomfortable for a moment before he faces her once more, clears his throat and says, "Well, there's no need to put the baby in harm's way if there are more modern and equally as efficient alternatives."

There's something in the way he says it, in the way his eyes keep flickering to her stomach; but she can't place it, and she's not about to question it. He was right, although she doesn't need him to tell her that: one night in bed together and a baby growing inside of her doesn't mean she knows him.

The moment is broken by the sound of the elevator, quickly followed by numerous footsteps crossing the space towards them.

"Hey, Chuck! You'll never guess who I bumped into downstairs," Nate calls out as he enters the space.

She suddenly realizes the time and when her brother said he'd meet her. "Oops," she offers up; even though the elder can't hear her, she thinks it might have the same effect on the other dark-haired male currently standing before her.

He shoots her a look and eyes still on her, answers his best friend, "Oh, I think I can wager a pretty accurate guess."

"You remember Dom, right? From when we were in Maui – " Nate stops suddenly when he realizes she's standing there, takes stock of the very different body from their time in Hawaii, and then his face breaks into a grin and he's diminishing the distance between them in a matter of steps and wrapping her up in a hug, "Mira!"

"Nate! It's great to see you again," she returns with an enthusiastic smile.

"I didn't realize you guys kept in touch after we left," he says then.

"We didn't," is Chuck's short response.

"Oh, well what're you doing up here then?" Nate asks of her, and looks between the two for someone to answer him.

That's when a tall blonde swoops in to save the moment: granted, she's not cared for many of that description before, more so just one in particular; but she reckons she could definitely get on board with this girl.

"Hi!" the statuesque beauty announces, easily drawing their attention towards her as she strikes out her hand, "I'm Serena."

"Mirabel," she returns, grasping it with a wide smile, before rephrasing, "Mira."

"It's so great to meet you," the blonde gushes, "I'll have to get you alone so you can tell me all about your adventures with these two – they were far too tight-lipped about their global travels for my liking!"

She laughs good-naturedly, although she doubts she'll have much to share. Somehow regaling the other with an account of her sex-life with Chuck didn't seem the best idea.

"And I see you've met my brother, Dominic," she inclines her head in the direction of the elder and he humors her with a smile, nodding to the blonde who literally _beams_ back at him; oh dear.

"Yeah, we got acquainted in the elevator on the way up," Serena replies cheerily.

Chuck looks amused by this and Nate clears his throat and the blonde _tuts_ at the pair of them, waving them off with a pout.

"Ew, you guys, not like that," she says, looking mildly annoyed with them, but then no more than a few seconds later she's already moved onto a new topic, "But Dom was telling me you've just moved to the city – and you two have an apartment together, that's impressive!"

Serena shares a look with Chuck and lets out a cute giggle like a little kid.

"By the end of high school, whenever Chuck and I lived under the same roof we were ready to tear each other's hair out," the taller girl exclaims.

"You really know how to crush my spirit, S – I thought you enjoyed the games we played during our special sleepovers," is his smarmy response to that, causing Nate to simply roll his eyes and shake his head at the pair; clearly this is the norm for this lot.

"Chuck!" the blonde exclaims, crossing the small space between them to slap him on the chest as he just laughingly twists away from her as Serena turns to her and says, "Can you tell how much I enjoy being referred to as his sister?"

The boys merely snicker, while Serena rolls her eyes and Mira decides maybe she'll have a little fun with this.

"Wow, Chuck, meeting the family, organizing get-togethers with close pals – we're really getting serious, aren't we?" Mira says, eyes moving from the trio before them to fix upon his face, as she then pats her pregnant stomach and directs a sickly sweet smile his way, "Not that we aren't pretty serious already, of course."

She pretends not to see the wide-eyed gazes from his two best friends and the effort it seems to take them not to leave their jaws slack, and just smiles brightly back at them.

He fits her with a look that tells her there was no need for that, but she's too entertained to really care right now.

It's a short-lived feeling.

.

**_TBC…_**

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><p>Thanks for reading, reviews are always appreciated :)<br>Steph  
>xxx<p> 


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

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"_You may think that in life, a lot of things happen to you along the way. The truth is, in life, you happen to a lot of things along the way."  
><em>_**Dr. Shad Helmstetter**_

.

"I'm sorry, what?" Serena questions instantly, eyebrows lifting as high as her wide eyes will allow.

"Wait a minute, are you saying Chuck's – " Nate leaves the question unfinished as he nods to her swollen midriff and looks between the two for confirmation or otherwise.

"Chuck! You got a girl pregnant?" the blonde suddenly screeches.

"Dude," his best friend laments, following quickly behind her. "Not cool."

Mira opens her mouth to say something along the lines of _my sentiments exactly_, when she feels two hands on her shoulders and another presence by her side.

"I'm sorry, I just need a minute with my sister, and I'm sensing that you might want a moment alone, so we're just going to go over here…" Dom trails off as he quickly steers her out of the living room and into one of the adjacent rooms.

Ignoring her protests, he nudges her onwards till he feels they're sufficiently far away from the trio and closes the door behind him.

He turns instantly to his little sister, questioning her actions, "Ok, what was that?"

"I… I don't know," is her weak response, complete with pitiful half-shrug that she knows won't win her any points either.

Then realization comes crashing down on her.

"Shit," Mira says and lifts her eyes to meet her brother's. "I shouldn't have done that."

"You think?" is all Dom says to that; and it's obvious he can't quite believe she went and did it in the first place.

"Fuck," is her next response.

"Stop swearing," he tells her and she rolls her eyes at his continual parenting act. "You need to apologise to them."

She just fits him with a look. "No kidding."

When she doesn't move, she finds her big brother looking back at her expectantly.

"What, now?" she asks; because wasn't _he _the one that said to give them a minute?

"Yes, _now_," he parrots right back at her. "You apologise and then we can get out of here, leave them to sort it out amongst themselves – " she opens her mouth to dispute their leaving and he continues on, answering what he knows she's going to say, " – and come back when things have settled down, and you and your man can deal with the baby issues then. How does that sound?"

He makes it seem like he's giving her a choice; like he's not just laid out what's going to happen with the explicit implication that she's going to follow it to the letter.

"Just peachy."

"Wonderful," her brother remarks, and grins at her, "My favorite kind of smoothie."

She rolls her eyes and fits him with an unimpressed look as he holds the door open for her and gestures for her to go first; ever the mannerly gentleman her brother.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes to the silent room as she enters, clasping her hands together, trying not to twist her fingers in on themselves like the knots of guilt working her insides. "I shouldn't have done that, it was stupid and mean and totally unnecessary."

She chances a look up and finds them all watching her intently.

"I've just been so _bored _lately – seriously, I know next to no one here and apparently being pregnant is synonymous with being an invalid," she shoots a scowl at her older brother who doesn't seem fazed in the slightest by her accusation, "and there's only so many days I can spend in the park or wherever making notes and taking shots of the world as it passes by."

She's aware of how much she's moaning as she exhales, so she feels she should maybe explain her actions a little more.

"It gets unbelievably dull after a while, and I've taken to trying to inject some fun into my days wherever I can and…" she knows this really isn't going to hack it, but it's all she's got right now, so she sucks it up and just says it anyway, "I'm sorry I brought you into it and used that fact that Chuck's the father of my baby to achieve my clearly nefarious ends – and the paternity's a true fact, by the way, despite his obvious, though grudgingly _understandable_ reservations on the matter."

"Do you need to sit down after that long-winded speech? Seems it might've taken a lot out of you," Chuck calls over to her, gesturing to seats next to him with a baiting expression.

She shoots him a glare and tartly responds, "No, I'm quite alright, thank you very much."

He shrugs, casts a glance off to the side avoiding the gaze of every other person in the room. "Suit yourself."

"Look, I'm not sure what Chuck's told you, but I'm not here to swindle him out of a trust fund or dupe him in anyway. I'm having his baby and I want him to be part of his child's life. That's all," she tells his friends sincerely, trying to appeal to their better nature. "So when the test results come back, _and confirm what I've already told him_, it's really up to Chuck what happens – but I'm sorry, again, for doing what I did."

She chances a smile at the other boy she met on her Hawaiian holiday and the blonde she feels a kinship with already.

"I really do want to make this work."

"Well… I suppose I might be able to forgive you for the way you dropped that massive bombshell on us," Serena is the first to speak, appearing to deliberate over the decision for but a second before her lips perk up in a wide, mischievous grin, "In exchange for some gossip about the boys' time in Maui."

"Of course," Mira obliges instantly, smiling brightly back at the other girl, and then she falters a touch before she can take the olive branch offered to her by his sister of all people, glancing down at her stomach where one of her hands rests, "Although I think my tales are pretty one-sided… and I'm not too sure how much you'll really want to hear."

Serena seems to realize what she's referring to and she scrunches up her face, "Oh gross," she shoots an accusatory look at the rest of them, "What's with you lot?"

"Oh please," Chuck scoffs, "Like you're anything close to being a prude."

The blonde sticks her tongue out at him and Mira finds herself smiling as she watches them; she's always enjoyed observing other people's familial relationships. It used to help, before, to know not everyone had the perfect home life; that it wasn't just her family that couldn't make it work even though they desperately wanted it to. It's morbid in a way, but she used to find comfort in the dysfunction of others. Now she just enjoys reveling in the things that make them click; that define them as a family.

"You already know my thoughts on the matter," he turns to her then, straight-laced and not an ounce of a smile, "I'm reserving judgment for the moment."

"Yeah, I'm open to forgiveness about the whole breaking the news part, but I'm gonna have to go with Chuck on the whole 'is the baby actually his' thing," Nate says, looking apologetically at her as he finishes, "Sorry."

"You understand though, right?" Serena adds; including herself in the reluctance to jump headfirst into baby-mania that the others are giving out.

"Of course – and thanks," Mira replies with a small smile, and then looks to her brother, "And now, I think it's time we ought to be going, 'caused enough mischief for one day."

She moves over to collect her belongings and Dom sweeps down to pick them up for her, helping her into her jacket and offering her each shoe in turn, but not without a brief look of disapproval at the heels on them which she pointedly ignores as she uses his solid presence by her side to keep her steady while she restores her appearance.

"I'll come by and pick you up tomorrow," Chuck tells her, "It'll be easier than sending a car if we're to arrive and leave together."

She tries to resist the urge to roll her eyes but fails miserably, muttering, "Of course."

They're already in the elevator before anyone speaks again.

"Uh, Dom?" Nate calls out, sounding mildly unsure of himself, "Drop me a line when you're free for that game, yeah?"

Her brother nods, replying easily, truthfully, "Will do." And then to the blonde, he slaps on a smile to accompany the words, "Serena, it was lovely to meet you."

Serena beams at Dom again. "Likewise."

The two dark-haired males merely incline their heads to one another and state their goodbyes only with their namesakes as she stabs the button on the panel to finally separate the group and waits on the sounds of movement that will mark their descent from way up high.

Mira shakes her head at the whole affair, voicing what they're all surely thinking, "I can't even believe this is happening right now."

.

"So, Chuck, how're you feeling?" Serena is the first to speak once they're alone, her voice as unsteady as the structures of the moment holding them together.

"Fine," he replies, already making his way back over to the sofa, casting her a sideways glance when he's settled. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," she starts, rounding the couch towards him, "For one, it was only a few months ago you were ready to run away with Blair and start a family with her and her baby, and now," she pauses, before settling on, "Now you're just beginning to move on from that, and this happens. And with everything that's gone on with Ivy and our family…"

He can see why she's concerned, but she really needn't be. He has this under control.

"Yeah, man," Nate chimes in, "I gotta say, I'm worried."

"Really, Nathaniel?" he quirks an eyebrow at his best friend, "Worried your new play-date and his sister are going to con me out of my fortune with something as see-through as a false paternity claim?" he scoffs at the notion, "Please."

"Come on, Chuck," the blonde prompts, seemingly unconvinced.

"You're worrying over nothing," he assures them; just because his sister still has Daddy issues to contend with, doesn't mean he has to deal with them or whatever _Mira _is attempting to project onto him.

"Look I like them," Nate tells him, "They seem like nice people, and you know, despite her quirks, she really does seem to care for her baby and wants you to be a part of its life."

His best friend shares a look with Serena and then back to him.

"But even nice people can get desperate sometimes, and it can make them do things they normally wouldn't, and I – " Nate looks so sincere as he says it, "I just don't want you to get caught up in all of that and get hurt, that's all."

"You mean like what happened with my _mother_?" Chuck deduces, says what he knows they want to but won't.

"Yeah… " his best friend trails off; like he'd rather not think about such instances. He's not alone. "Like what happened with Elizabeth."

"Rest assured, Nathaniel, I learned my lesson with that one," he smacks his lips together with the promise, "I won't be caught out like that again."

He won't because he can't. He (_she_) barely survived it last time; he could never chance a reoccurrence.

"And if it turns out to be true?" Serena asks, "That you really are her baby's father?"

"Relax, S," he shifts in his place, readjusts his jacket, swallows, and tells her like it's a sure thing, "It's not going to happen."

"What do you mean, it's not going to happen?" she asks, drawing out the question so her suspicion is fully recognized. "She seems pretty certain that you're the father, Chuck."

"Let's just say, it's being handled," is all he says on the matter, smoothing down his tie and pressing his lips together in a hard line.

"What?" Serena balks at his words. "What do you mean _it's being handled_? What've you done?" she eyes him closely, pulling back sharply, "You've not – ? You're not going to have her lose the baby and make it look like an accident, are you?"

She sounds scandalized, and so she should.

He tires to keep his face neutral, fights to subtly swallow the bile that's started to rise in his throat at her suggestion – that she could possibly think – that she could even envision him –

He worries his lip, inhales sharply through his nose and slides his palms together, twisting and turning them in his lap.

He doesn't bother arguing with her, because there aren't enough words for him to refute such claims against his character and reason why.

Instead he says, "It's being handled," and looks to his sister as he purposely adds, "In a manner that won't affect the life of her child."

Though even as he says it, he knows it's not true. Knows there's a reason that bad taste has yet to leave his mouth: because what he's set in motion, what he's done; it will in no way maim or kill her child, but there's still the possibility for hurt.

He sees Serena look to his best friend for help, sees Nate offer his hands, palms up, like he wants to know what she thinks he can do here. She shakes her head at him and then she turns on her heel and walks out. With a look back at him and an apology and explanation all rolled into one, Nate follows after her.

Chuck squares his shoulders, breathes in and then out, stares straight ahead and reminds himself why he's doing this. He could lose _everything_.

He doesn't need to be reformed to know right from wrong, to realize his actions have consequences. He can wrap it up in a blanket of self-preservation, but he knows better; whether she's telling the truth or not, he's already seen to it that she could lose everything too.

If he's going to go up in flames, he's taking all that's hers with him.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>I realise that there will be alot of the focus on the two OCs, but feel I should reiterate that this will centre quite considerably on what's happening in Chuck's life through the characters of the NJBC, which includes Blair. Although she's been absent up till now, she makes her first appearance in the next chapter (if not, definitely the one after that!) and will contribute to the story.<p>

Next chapter will be up in another couple of days or so.  
>Thanks for taking the time to read, it'd really mean a lot if you could let me know your thoughts too :)<br>Steph  
>xxx<p> 


	5. Chapter 4

This should've been up so so long ago, but I got extremely distracted by uni and life. However, it is longer and the next part will be up either today, tomorrow or the next day.  
>Enjoy…<p>

(P.S. this has Blair in it, if that's any incentive to read on haha)

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Four<span>

.

"_Oh no, you don't fool me  
>But I can keep a secret<br>I can read it like you wrote it all down  
>And I'm not looking for your love<br>But we would do it well  
>And that's the thing I can't stop thinking about."<br>__**'Liar', Dragonette**_

.

"You don't have to sit in with me, you know," Belle says, glancing his way and placing her phone back in her bag.

"Yes, I do," Chuck replies, watching her as she fiddles with the leather straps before wordlessly plucking her purse out of her grasp and placing it on the floor between his feet and the legs of the bed, out of her reach.

She looks like she can't decide whether to scowl at him or thank him, and he doesn't offer a response by way of either.

"You have major trust issues, d'you know that?" She eyes him as he stands stoically next to her, working his jaw.

"Excuse me if I like to keep my fortune and my family's legacy closely guarded from gold-diggers and liars."

"Wow," she whistles, looking somewhat taken aback at his tone, though she doesn't physically shirk away, just keeps wringing her hands in her lap. "Someone really did a number on you, didn't they?"

He lifts his hand to cut off anything else she might have to say. "Can we just stop with the sideshow commentary?" He meets her eyes, resolute. "I'm staying. End of."

"So it would appear," she mutters and then seems to decide the opposite wall is a scintillating prop for her attention and stares intently at the patterns for the next five minutes without so much as a peep.

Chuck pretends not to notice how uncomfortable the silence is and readjusts his stance instead; it's not like he's never had people be annoyed with him before. This is nothing. It _means_ nothing.

.

"I still can't believe you've been here all this time and I've not bumped into you at all," Nate marvels.

Dom looks amused for a moment, sharing a look with Serena, who's trying to quell her smile at the way her friend sounds sincerely put out by this discovery; reassuring the younger, "It's a pretty densely populated city, Nate. I wasn't intentionally trying to avoid you."

"I know," is the response, complete with a slight sigh, "I just can't believe you've been here this long and we've not crossed paths once."

"I do have a day job, you know," Dom reminds him with a smile, pausing to incline his head to the spread before them, "Not that you'd likely realize it with all the free-time I seem to be spending _out _of the office recently."

"Hey! I work too, you know, I have my own company now," Nate refutes, his lips curling around the rim of his glass. "A lot can change in six months."

"Ain't that the truth," the elder murmurs and takes a swig of his own drink.

"I still can't quite wrap my head around it – I mean it's always been a sort of running joke just how many girls Chuck's slept with, but I neverthought I'd see the day he actually got one pregnant," he says, and then tilts his head to the side, considering, "Well… except maybe Blair," he shares a look with Serena, "But look how well that turned out, right?"

"Blair?" Dom inquires, catching the contents speared on his fork with his mouth.

"Yeah, she grew up with us, we're all still best friends," Nate tells him, and then frowns and turns to Serena, "Right?"

"Of course," she responds easily, with a breeze of a smile; pointedly ignoring the flicker of a frown on the other man's face.

"Well anyway, she was my girlfriend for years, and then she was Chuck's," he rolls his head from side to side, airily gesturing with his hand, "They've been on and off since like Junior Year, and it's this constant back and forth in what's gotta be one of the craziest, most intense loves you'll ever experience," he assures the other, and then smacks his lips together, gulps down any hesitation and soldiers on with; "But then there was this whole mess with Blair's engagement and she and Chuck got into a car accident and she lost her baby and basically told everyone she was still in love with Chuck, but then she married the Prince anyway, and now she's doing _something _with our friend Dan, who used to be madly in love with Serena."

Dom swallows, eyes still on him, as he places the tumbler on the dining table. "And here I thought my love life was eventful."

Nate turns to Serena, "Did I miss anything out?"

She shakes her head, replying softly, "Nope, think you covered everything."

She knows Dom would have likely found out on his own anyway, knows it wouldn't be difficult with how the press and _Gossip Girl _have documented everything. And though it hurts to see her best friend with the ex she still feels in love with, Blair _is_ her best friend, no matter what. So Serena can't help but feel like she's betraying the brunette somehow by relaying all these events from her life to someone she only knows because they claim to be the future uncle of her brother's unborn child. And hearing it all laid out like that; she suddenly realizes just how much her best friend has been through. As much as she hates to admit it, she can see some logic in Blair's migration to Dan; at least in the way she knows her best friend's mind operates. Still, as much as Serena loves her best friend, as much as she wants what's best for her, wants her to be happy and healthy – she can't help but wish Blair had been able to help herself, had been able to recapture her dreams again on her own terms in her own way, without dashing all Serena's hopes for the future at the same time.

.

Chuck's sample has already been taken, they're just waiting on the clinician returning to take her blood, which she looks oh so eager to have over and done with already.

Minutes prior, he'd caught her absentmindedly scratching at the inside of one of her arms and noted the track marks in her elbows, visible now she'd successfully picked off most of the myriad of little band-aids that previously resided there. He'd raised an eyebrow at them, to which she'd simply told him that _apparently _her veins are what can only be termed as _difficult _and by all accounts seem to perform _evasive maneuvers _whenever a needle appears. As a result, the doctors and nurses typically end up poking and prodding her for minutes on end before they make any headway, so naturally she can't wait to try out this next attempt. He could tell she wasn't impressed by the previous repeated incompetent performances, so just to annoy her that bit more he'd remarked that she should look on the bright side; at least that ruled out the possibility he'd have to worry about her being a drug addict (not that the history he's already had drawn up of her hadn't done that already, of course). She'd simply rolled her eyes at him and had gone back to staring at the opposite wall while he chuckled to himself and tried to focus on anything and everything bar the fact this might turn out to be a stepping stone to fatherhood.

"So… what do you do?" he says after awhile, effectively gaining her attention once again.

"I'm sorry, what do I _do_?" is Belle's reply to that, and now it's her turn to raise her eyebrows and look amused. "I'm twenty years old, pregnant, and just moved to New York City; I'm afraid you're going to have to be a tad more specific with your inquiry."

He humors her with a half-smile. "You said you're not looking for anything, but my presence in the child's life – If it does indeed turn out to be mine, that is. I'm just curious how you expect to raise said child in this city without any financial support from yours truly."

"Oh, you richies," she remarks with a laugh, leaning back against the bench and then turning her head to the side to tell him, "I do have a degree, you know; which I can easily use to get another job," she shrugs and starts to inspect her nails, which at this moment are painted a light peach tone that matches the print on her dark jeans, with horizontal metallic lines on the base coat of her index finger that compliments the shimmer of the jewelry adorning her wrists. "I'm merely considering this holiday time for the moment."

"How quaint," he comments at that, tries to himself from stop observing her so much, drawing comparisons where there are none, looking at her clothes and thinking they don't match his own and never will. They might coordinate at times, but they'll never be in sync. Even in his own mind he knows what he really means: Belle will never be Blair.

"Well, I was earning before I came here, so there's that," she says, becoming somewhat defensive, before adding like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "Besides, Dom's an actuary with PwC and he's not exactly adverse to spreading the income, so we're really already pretty set for life, baby and I."

Chuck _highly_ doubts that, but says nothing. There's a knot in his stomach that tightens with her words; he's sure she's not actually pinning all her hopes on being a kept woman under her brother's salary given the little laugh that accompanies her words, not to mention the tone with which she says them; but in case he's wrong, why dash all her plans for the future right now? There's time enough for that yet.

"Alternatively, I could always just pawn off whatever ridiculously expensive, totally unnecessary items you purchase for our child," Belle declares with a self-satisfied expression, though she still doesn't meet his gaze.

"You'll do no such thing," he says almost automatically, quashes any other feeling associated but that of being right and making sure she knows it.

"We'll see." She shrugs again, apparently unfazed by his directive, instead simply changing viewpoint in her scrutiny of her nails with a quick extension of equally short arms and the flick of a wrist, as thin as a child's. "After all, how else am I to find financial stability if not with the boy billionaire's help?"

He refuses to give her the satisfaction of an answer to that, although his stoic expression seems to do that enough by itself.

"That is, if the baby's yours of course," is her flippant final comment, knowing it'll rile him.

She shoots him a pretentious smile as he scowls at her.

He likes to push her buttons? Well, she'll push his right back.

There's a mutual feeling that this is likely going to be a long couple of months; in forty-eight hours, they'll be of the same opinion, it's going to be a long couple of _decades_.

.

"Blair!" Nate is the first to notice her, a flash of red amid the muted tones of the other mid-morning occupants of The Empire lobby. "What are you doing here?"

"I was actually looking for Serena," the brunette replies as she reaches them, and turns to the blonde, "Lily said you'd be here."

"Yeah," Serena confirms, although her tone is somewhat vague, "I've been a lot of spending time with Chuck and Nate, since…"

"Since I started dating Dan," Blair finishes for her, not mincing her words, but not looking entirely pleased as she does so. "Yes, I'd noticed."

"So… you're not here to see Chuck then?" Nate asks, apparently sceptical.

"No, I just told you, I'm here to see Serena," Blair returns, looking mildly irritated with him for a moment before directing at the blonde, "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a bite to eat, maybe go to Bendels. I could get caught up with what's been going on in my best friend's life."

The brunette looks between the two people she's known her whole life trying to measure what's going on with them; last she heard Nate was going out with Lola, and Serena still loved Dan.

"But if you're busy, I'm sure we can do it another time," she adds in a deliberately even tone.

"No, she can do it now. Can't you Serena?" Nate interjects quickly, looking from the blonde to the brunette in quick succession, "Where were you thinking of going?"

"I hadn't decided, I thought Serena might like some input," Blair shoots him a shrewd look before facing her best friend once more, "What do you say, S?"

"Sure, ok, lunch sounds good," is the suddenly easy, if not a little too speedy, reply.

"Unless you want to join us, Nate?" the brunette turns to him with a sweet smile as she poses the question.

"No, that's ok," he dismisses with an oblivious smile; "I'll just go up and hang with Chuck."

"Invite him too," Blair instantly says of that, wondering how far she can push this before they inevitably cave and reveal what they're so desperately trying to keep from her. "Really, we've known one another our whole lives, what's a simple bite to eat among friends?"

"He can't, he's busy right now," is Serena's swift response to that, hoping that'll put an end to that thought. She should know better by now; she knows Blair better, she should've expected what comes next.

The brunette is undeterred by this attempt, surmising, "Well, he's obviously not so busy he can't spare time to hang out with Nate, so having something to eat with us should be no different, right S?"

"It is different, and besides he probably won't even hang out with Nate; Nate's just saying that because he doesn't want to be dragged into an afternoon of girl chat and shopping," Serena refutes.

"What's going on?" Blair questions; eyeing the pair before her closely to try and needle out a reaction or two.

"Nothing," the blonde contests, huffing at the insinuation of their dishonesty, "Chuck's just busy right now – "

" – so you've said," is the blank interruption at that.

" – and you said you came all this way to see me, so why don't we just go?" Serena finishes with a wide, hopeful smile, reaching out to grasp her best friend's hands and tug her a step towards the exit.

" – several times, in fact," Blair continues from her own previous thought, ignoring her best friend's attempt to divert her attention, and fights to stay put as she frowns at both of them. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," the blonde disputes, "we told you!"

"Maybe I wasn't clear," is the succinct response to that, "What's going on with _Chuck?_"

It's Nate's turn to sigh as he says, "Blair, do you really think Chuck would want to spend the day with us while you and Serena try and find something else to talk about besides your mutual feelings for Dan, you and Chuck try and avoid the fact that only a few weeks ago you were so in love it nearly stopped you from marrying Louis, and _I_ try and pretend that the whole situation is not completely awkward and could have been avoided had you not insisted on making us all spend time together the first chance you got?" He shakes his head, pointing out, "It's going to be bad enough just the two of you, without having to subject the rest of us to it as well."

"And by 'the rest of us' you mean Chuck," is her conclusion from his passive-aggressive tirade, "That I shouldn't subject _Chuck _to anymore hurt or discomfort or, God forbid, even my _presence_. Nevermind the fact that I was courteous enough to actually tell him of my feelings and how they'd changed, that I actively encouraged him to find someone else who could be with him the way he wanted me to be, so he could be loved the way I still think he deserves. So I should basically just ignore the fact I've known him as long as either of you, that you _live _with him, and that currently my best friend seems to be sharing that home with the pair of you more often than she does ours? That I should just pretend we don't all have a past together and it influences both the present and our future? Is that what you're saying, Nate?"

"Blair, come on – " is the start of the objection the brunette receives in return, which she swiftly puts an end to by speaking again.

"And another thing, Nate: Serena and I are best friends, I think we can find more to talk about than Dan Humphrey," she points out, not bothering to hide her frustration now. "Or what? Did you think she and I only talked about you while we were dating and you were mooning over her?" she scoffs, "Please. Conceited much, Nate?"

"Right, I'm conceited for being concerned about my best friend," he answers, his sarcastic tone telling her he doesn't appreciate being ridiculed for his efforts, when all he's doing is being there for Chuck when she's not.

"Well, there's no need to be concerned," is her simply response, shooting a quick look to him in particular with the reminder, "as I've already told you."

Neither point out the fact that if Blair had been around she'd be a better judge of whether or not Chuck is befitting their concern; they suppose the same could be said of their opinion of the brunette and how she's coping.

"In fact," the brunette declares decisively, "I'm going to go up there right now and tell him we need to start spending time together if we're ever going to be able to function in civilised society again."

"I really don't think – " Serena starts to protest.

"Unless you give me a good enough reason not to, of course," Blair challenges.

Nate remains silent, while Serena looks uncertain, and when her best friend nods decisively and turns on her heel, she calls after her, "B, don't – "

It's a half-hearted attempt really, and it's too late anyway; Blair's already walking purposefully towards the elevator and stepping inside mere moments later.

Serena turns and smacks Nate as soon as the elevator doors have closed and their best friend is both out of their immediate sight and earshot.

"Ow!" he exclaims, rubbing the spot that she wounded. "What was that for?"

"Are you an idiot?" she hisses, exasperated, "Or don't you remember who went up to the penthouse before Blair?"

"Yeah, Mira," he says nonchalantly, his attention still focussed on tending to his injury.

Serena watches with raised eyebrows until it finally seems to dawn on him.

"Oh shit," is Nate's next remark and she just nods. He looks slightly worried now. "You don't think… she wouldn't… she won't do what she did last time… will she?"

The thought of Mira instigating a repeat performance of dropping the baby bombshell, this time for the audience of their best friend, is enough to terrify them into action and they sprint towards the elevator hoping they can get there in time to stop the spread of whatever damage has already been done in their absence.

.

He looks up when the elevator doors open and stands to greet her when she walks into his apartment.

"You summoned me," is Belle's sweet response to his welcome.

"Can I get you a drink?" he offers, already walking into the kitchen to fix himself an espresso as she shakes her head and declines.

"So what's this about?" she calls through and he hears the dull thud of her black bag hitting the floor and the clack of her heels as she maneuvers around the coffee table.

"Oh, just the usual," is his vague response throwing a glance round the partition to see her scanning the room.

"Which is?" she prompts, elongating the word, and he returns to his current task at hand, confident she'll get to them soon enough. "And we have a _usual_? What happened to _'you don't even know me'_? What? Did you find something out about me and now you think we're even or whatever because you think you know me now too– ?"

And then she's silent and he takes that to mean she's seen the files. Good.

She's physically shaking with anger when he casually strides back into the room, coffee in hand, looking the picture of ease and casually commenting, "I see you found Andrew's report on you."

"What is this?" she demands through clenched teeth, pieces of paper crumpling in her grasp.

He shakes his head at her, _tut-tutting _her reproachfully, "You didn't think I'd let you just walk into my home and accuse me of fathering a child with you without digging up a little dirt on you for myself, did you?"

She looks like she's set to say something, but instead she just shakes her head, resigned.

"You see, _you _might not've been in it the for the money, but that doesn't mean everyone shares your view," he remarks, inclining his head towards one report in particular that he can see is in her tight grip already. Even better. "Looks like big brother isn't as _financially stable _as you would've led me to believe."

"I don't believe you," she tells him in a clear voice, glowering at his unaffected attitude.

"You don't need to believe me sweetheart, it's all right there in those files," he returns jovially, taking a languid sip of his coffee.

He steps across the space towards her, his swagger firmly still intact.

"Maybe it's not your brother's habits that are responsible for his low account credit," he looks her up and down, imposing the thought, "but the habits of _his_ bad habits."

She slaps him then. Straight palm and full-fingered, and it hurts like the bitch she can be when he forgets that's one of the reasons he was drawn to her in the first place.

"You're a bastard," she tells him, spinning on her heel to leave, the curve of her coattail billowing in orange around her like he's summoned the flames of Hell to smoke her out; scorch her till she admits the truth he wants to hear.

"Actually I'm not," he smarmily informs her. "But that kid you're carrying is."

She just shakes her head at him; her brown hair framing her face, pulled back by the legs of her glasses, her blazing features left clear for him to see. He's so engrossed in the figure leaving he soon finds he somehow missed the one entering; _how _that was possible is beyond him, but maybe it has to do with the way he can't stop working his jaw, trying to rid the feeling of her cold hand on his burning skin.

"So, you won't be wanting to collect on my money then?" he calls after her, forcing out a puff of laughter as he toasts to her with the remains of his espresso. "Well, that is a surprise."

"I keep telling you it's not about the money, but you never listen," is her almost dejected response. "There's only so many times I can keep putting myself out there for you to knock me down, before I really will leave you alone for good and you'll miss out on one of the best things that'll ever happen to you."

His gaze doesn't leave hers, but as the elevator doors start to close it drifts down to the hand tightly gripping onto the handles of her bag, held in the crook of her opposite arm, her other is thrown across her pregnant stomach like a barrier between them that he caused to be created. He notes that the light peach of yesterday is gone, replaced by matte black with glossy tips. He idly wonders if she chipped a nail. She could've broken the skin for all he knows; he imagines the rippling sting of the pain is the same.

"And something tells me you don't actually want that."

In this case it's not shame that's five-fingered, so much as a twinge of something he recognizes as being akin to regret. So maybe she's right, maybe he doesn't want that; but that doesn't mean she knows him, not like the other brunette currently standing in his apartment, silently surveying him with her cool gaze that takes in more of him than he'd ever give out.

.

"Chuck," Blair calls over to him. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did?" he queries with mild disinterest, raising an eyebrow, before following it up with the remark, "I guess today's just full of surprises."

"I met Serena and Nate downstairs. They implied you had something to share with me," she rephrases, stepping further into the room. "It sounded important."

"Well, whatever you _inferred _from what they didn't actually say to you, you can rest assured, it's not," he tells her moodily, leaning his elbows heavily on the bar-top and staring into his espresso cup for a moment before downing the last of its contents. "At least not anymore."

"Oh," she voices, though she doesn't seem very convinced. "Well, ok then."

"Thanks for stopping by," he dismisses her, eyes fixed on the opposite wall, determined not to let his gaze fall on her lest it lingers; he already knows he can't ever be rid of her, he doesn't need the constant reminder.

In the few moments that pass she watches him replace the coffee with alcohol that he decants into a glass with the disinterested ease of someone who'd been doing it for far too long without much enjoyment involved.

She debates whether to say anything, but if he's being sued again with some bogus sexual harassment claim or by whoever this new chick is with something as unoriginal as a wrongful dismissal case, she wants to know, wants to help him. "It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the angry pregnant woman who stormed out of here a few minutes ago, would it?"

He works his jaw, swirls his glass tightly in his grasp.

"You've not been fraternizing with the help again, have you? I thought you'd moved onto _classier_ woman, of a better breed." She frowns, considering what she'd seen of the other female, conceding, "Although I did like her shoes."

He traps the sound of his amusement at this comment in his mouth; from what he's seen of it, Belle does have quite the collection for someone not part of their world or the trust funds that come with it.

Blair's still frowning as she adds, "And her coat… and her bag." She looks to him accusingly, "I always did say you pay them too much for their position."

"She's not the help, Blair," he tells her, turning in his place to survey her (they match: the bright red of her coat with the exact shade of his bow tie; even the details coordinate: her black and tan bag with his shoes and suit; it's undeniable that they _compliment _one another). Forcing himself to focus instead on her words and not her attire and what it does or doesn't mean, he allows the smirk to twist his lips with the words, "Although I'll be sure to tell her that if I ever have the chance to see her again – I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"Well," she voices snootily, looking set to say something further when the elevator sounds and two bodies come rushing into the room, scrambling across the space.

"Chuck!" Nate calls out, "I swear, we didn't mean for her to – "

"This was so not my fault!" Serena exclaims over his attempts, "Nate was the one who told her to come up here, I – "

"What are you two blabbering about?" Blair questions and they suddenly take stock of the room's occupants: Mira's nowhere to be seen.

Chuck merely raises an eyebrow at the pair of them, coolly observing them.

"Care to explain yourselves and enlighten us as to why you're piling in here like squabbling children desperate for Daddy and Mommy's attention?"

That shuts them up.

Chuck notices because he's busy concentrating on looking at their faces rather than that tiny waist of hers that's nipped in with the buckled belt of her coat before it flares out to the full skirt. He won't put his attention to her face although he does so enjoy watching as she gets worked up; her coat has a demure buttoned collar, which only serves to makes him wonder if she wore it just for him; she knows he has a weakness for her neck, after all.

"Well?" Blair prompts when she receives no response to her demand for answers and her snap brings his attention away from his thoughts to the present.

Nate and Serena look to each other, but before they can start stammering out a reply, Chuck does so for them.

"I think it's fairly obvious, Blair," he says, turning fully to look at the three of them then, and gesturing between them as he speaks, "Nate and Serena here watched you go on your crusade to see me or speak to me or whatever your intent was, and then their delayed sense of misguided obligation to keep us apart for our dual benefit – should sharing the same air in a room lead us to inevitably attempt to destroy one another again – caused them to rush up after you and attempt to diffuse the situation."

He calmly turns to the pair, ignoring their widened eyes for the moment and the narrowed ones of an unconvinced brunette.

"Clearly it was a futile attempt, not to mention ill-placed," he concludes in a drawl, "But I'm sure you can appreciate the sentiment attached."

He looks to Blair with a forced smile and a glint of something in his eyes.

"After all, what are _friends _for if they're not there in our time of need?"

It's quite clear Chuck's not simply referring to their own respective best friends and the current happenings they're involved in, but those of a certain brown-haired male who used to hold only that term and can now seemingly claim much more.

"B?" Serena speaks up after the longest moment, in which Chuck and Blair have refused to break eye contact, or relax their similarly taut expressions. "Lunch?"

That snaps the brunette out of it and she clutches her bag tighter, pulling it closely in front of her as she plasters a deliberately polite smile on her face to present to them all before announcing breezily, "Of course."

She takes her best friend's arm with a smile and starts towards the elevator.

"That is why I came here after all," Blair says, with a sweeping glance at the remaining occupants of the room, and a smile that could charm even the most stoic of society, "To remind you what you're missing out on by acting this way."

She turns to Serena at the last moment as she says it, and the blonde simply shakes her head and rolls her eyes; there's no use arguing.

For his part, Chuck merely continues to stare after the brunette, trying to ignore the fact that such a statement could apply to both women in his life right now and pretend he's not aware that if he keeps it up he'll royally fuck up everything good in his life.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>AN: Ok, this will (eventually) be CB, but it's not going to be instant reunion, and I can't guarantee they'll always be completely amicable along the way. Just warning you now, so you can't say you weren't expecting a bit of a wait or that you thought they'd fall instantly back into one another's arms as soon as I rid them of any distractions or what have you lol

Also, point that probably went unnoticed, but figure I'll explain anyway: Mira's not from the US, so it's possible she left school with actual qualifications and did a 'proper' uni course so now has a degree in her field. For example, if my course was four years, like most here, and not five, I'd have graduated at age 21; 20 if I'd skipped my final year of school, which a lot do. There are also courses that run for three years instead of four in most other parts of the country, so 'technically' you could leave school at sixteen with your exam results and do a three year course and be qualified to do that career aged 19, which I reckon is ridiculously scary if it's what you plan on doing for the rest of your life. Maybe that's just me though ;)

Also as to the use of Belle - Chuck calls her that so I'll usually refer to her by that when it's a section just with them or when he's talking about her. In general though, I'll use Mira - it shouldn't be too confusing, she's the same person, it's just a different nickname ;)

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought.  
>Steph<br>xxx


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

.

"_You're going to make mistakes in life. It's what you do after the mistakes that counts."  
><em>_**Brandi Chastain**_

.

When Chuck walks round the coffee table to welcome the elder into his apartment, Dom greets him with a hard punch to the face; marking the same side his sister did not long before.

"I suppose I might've deserved that," Chuck grits out, reaching for his pocket square before straightening to face the other and raising it to his mouth.

"Might've?" his house_guest _questions with a humorless laugh. "Oh no you definitely deserved that."

Dom's wearing a dark suit, that Chuck will admit cuts quite an exceptional frame on him, but it makes him wonder if he's come straight from the office or straight from his home. He doesn't seem the type to lounge around in that type of attire; he seems more like Nate. Chuck mildly wonders if Belle called her brother to tell him what had happened or if it was the first thing she said when he walked through the door; or maybe he discovered it all on his own. The last, he could confess, amuses him somewhat.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Nate exclaims; appearing between the two with his hands held up to prevent further onslaught as Chuck dabs at his split lip with his handkerchief and sneers at the blood that stains the fabric. "What's this all about?"

"It really doesn't concern you," is Dom's response to that.

"When you're standing in my home throwing punches at my best friend, I'd say it really does concern me," Nate contests.

"Look I like you Nate, but it's not my fault the _best friend_ you share your home with has a tendency to be a little shit."

The corners of Chuck's lips curve at this; everything he does is to elicit a reaction, after all.

Dom looks around Nate then to direct his next words, "Why'd you have to do it? Why'd you have to keep fucking everything up?"

"So she told you about the files then," he calmly remarks, outstretching his arm and grimacing slightly as he drops his ruined pocket square to the table below, before lifting his head to face the elder. "I hardly see the harm in having a report drawn up of your account, especially if you're to be the main provider for my supposed offspring."

"You had my bank account _drained_," Dom rephrases, but his anger really manifests in his next point; "And just because I'm helping her out right now, doesn't mean my sister can't provide for her own kid."

He feigns innocence and focuses on the first point rather than the second, "Did I? That's a pretty steep accusation – are you sure it wasn't just a clerical error?"

"If I wasn't so sure it was you, I'd have thought I was the victim of some elaborate identity theft scheme, but – "

"But who would want to be you?" Chuck finishes for him with a mock sympathetic expression that disappears as quickly as it formed.

"I don't know, maybe no one, maybe some one," the elder muses, "But since I'm currently a nobody maybe I'll just assume another identity of my own – _Chuck Bass _has a nice ring to it, certainly rolls off my tongue well enough for it to be believable."

"Try it, you wouldn't get far," is his response, complete with an unperturbed roll of the shoulders, although there's an almost-challenge in his tone.

Dom just nods, lips pursed but slightly curved at the edges. "I'll concede it was good. You really went the full-haul: bank account, credit cards, the lease on my apartment – All my assets, work-related records, everything's frozen and currently under review. I can't even go to the ATM to get cash to pay for a coffee without getting a phone call and being told I need to set up an appointment to evaluate my financial situation."

He allows himself a moment to let the pride sink in, squashing any lingering feelings of guilt, before the truth finds its way to his lips, "Only trying to protect what little I have left."

"Well, so am I," the elder tells him simply, but he doesn't imagine they're on the same page at all.

Chuck eyes the man, wondering where he's going with this: if Dom had so much as tried to pull the same trick with him, he'd know by now. No, he's referring to something else.

"Stay away from my sister, Chuck," Dom warns him, revealing his hand. Chuck's read the file, the _other _pages his sister didn't have a chance to because she was too busy trying to comprehend the ones that showed the numerical extent of what Chuck had done to them. He knows what happened to their family, knows all about the fatherless childhood and what became of them as a result; but what's most prominent throughout is the fact that Dom will do anything for Belle. It's one of the reasons he knew it'd cause problems for the pair; was one of the things he was banking on to drive a wedge between them big enough to confound this scheme of theirs and leave them running from his sight. It's not playing out quite like he envisioned; but then he knows better than anyone that how something reads on paper, is not necessarily how it translates in life.

"Excuse me?" he questions, almost splutters a laugh to accompany it; because the dark-haired male simply cannot be serious right now. After all they've put him through, now _he's _the one who's to keep his distance?

Even Nate has to cut in at that one, "Just hold on a minute, Dom – "

"No, Nate," the elder holds up a hand to stop the younger from advancing. "I've watched what's been going on and I'm not going to just sit by and let it continue without doing something about it."

"You're saying he can't be near the baby?" Nate questions; incredulous. "You're the one who said he was the father."

"That's because he is!" Dom exclaims, frustrated, and then turns to Chuck, his voice dropping a notch as he says quite calmly, quite succinctly, "But if you're not going to stop with the games, if you're not going to stop trying to _destroy _her, just stay away from her."

So this is how his protective streak manifests, Chuck realizes: Dom's willing to sacrifice himself if it means his sister can live a happy, carefree life. He only has himself to blame for not considering this outcome; after all, her brother has a lot to make up for. Chuck should know; he still feels he's living the penance for a lifetime of mistakes. Being told you're forgiven doesn't ease the guilt of knowing you impacted someone's life enough to scar their heart forever. And it's nothing to be proud of, having such a profound effect on them, not when it's the result of such shameful acts.

"She made the mistake of sleeping with you and now she's throwing her life away to raise your kid – if you don't want anything to do with her, if you don't have any intentions of being a father to your own kid then walk away now," Dom tells him, adamant. "She made one mistake; she shouldn't have to spend her child's life suffering as well."

"Is that what you really think?" Admittedly Chuck's a little taken aback; Belle has been so stubborn thus far that she's keeping the baby, that the baby is his, that she wants him in its life; to hear her own brother tell him to stay away is a little surprising. Then again, it seems Dom's MO is trying to protect his sister at all costs.

"My sister never knew our dad and it's true, if he hadn't died we'd have had a very different childhood; but she seems to be under the impression that this means she has to give you a chance, that it would be some huge injustice to keep your child from you, like she _needs_ you to give her baby a good life," the dark-haired man informs him, almost as if this is something Chuck should already know. "The truth is she doesn't, she never has. It's _you _who needs her, not the other way round; so the sooner you both realize that, the better off we'll all be."

"If that baby is mine, you can't keep me from it," Chuck grinds out; and he means it. If the kid is his, he'll be in its life; and protective older brother or not, he'll make sure that child knows who its father is.

Dom laughs then, and it's mocking but not entirely cruel; there's too much truth in his next words for that, "Don't you get it? _I_ don't need to do anything; you're doing a good enough job of pushing them away on your own."

"How? By insisting on verifying the paternity when a girl I slept with once upon a time claims I'm the father of her child? By doing background checks on said girl and her _family_?" he demands, waits to see if the elder will flinch before saying, "I'm not doing anything you wouldn't do given the situation," and then he smirks, adding, "Well, maybe that's not strictly true…"

Dom doesn't give any indication that he's affected by Chuck's words, by what he knows Chuck's referring to; his voice deceivingly calm, he responds instead, "You can mess with me all you want, but don't fuck around with my sister's future."

_You've done enough damage already_: he doesn't say it, but they both know it's true, and that's all that matters.

"And I want my money back," Dom shouts over his shoulder as he leaves.

Chuck looks down, nursing his glass that remains full. "I bet you do."

"Chuck, man," Nate sighs, watching the other go and looking to his best friend for answers he's not sure he wants to hear, "What did you do?"

He just shakes his head, waving his best friend off with, "Maybe another time," as he moves towards his room. "I have a few phone calls to make."

.

The next day, he has the check written and signed before they've even pulled away from the curb.

"What is this?" Belle questions looking down at the strip of paper he's holding out to her, only half paying attention as she fiddles with her seatbelt.

"What I presume you've really been after this whole time," he says, straightforward as ever. "Why else would you have come today after your brother forbade me from seeing you?"

She frowns at that. "I told him I was coming to meet you; he never said anything," she replies, and then allows her lips to curve, "Well, except to point out that you're a dick and a compulsive liar and I should make sure we're both present, hands and feet where I could see them, when the doctor told us the results." She grins, looking pleased with herself, "Which I did."

"Hmm, well while interesting, it doesn't change anything," is his retort to that, gesturing to the check in his hand.

"He wouldn't stop me from doing this; he knows what it means to me," she tells him, ignoring the slip of paper and concentrating on him instead.

"Which we've established is considerably more than it does to me, so why don't you just do us all a favor and just take the money and leave?" he replies, sounding resigned now: honestly, what more do they want from him?

"Is this some sort of joke?" she demands incredulously, when she rips the paper from his grasp to scan over it.

"No joke," is his short response to that as he continues to watch her.

"And yet you're offering me a check, with a ridiculous number of zeros attached, because what? You think that'll make me give up my baby and denounce any ties to you? Give _you _my baby and promise never to bother you both again?"

She turns suddenly and starts to work the handle.

Chuck sighs. "What are you doing?"

"Getting out," Belle snarls, swiveling to call through the divide, "Hey! Stop the car, I want out."

"Don't be ridiculous, we're not stopping and you're not getting out," he tells her, and doesn't sound the least bit perturbed by her outburst.

"Oh, so now you're forbidding me to leave your presence entirely, is that it?" she whirls round to glare at him, her hands flying up to punctuate the air with her words, "What next? Guards on every exit of the room I'm in, maids preparing all my meals, little service men running around doing everything for me."

He manages a smirk in her direction. "You make it sound like such a terrible way to live."

She scowls at him. "And you make it sound like I'm some gold-digging whore who'd sell out her own flesh and blood just to increase my bank account."

"I never said that," is his simple response; because _technically _he never has.

"No, you just implied it with your Mont Blanc signature and your leather-bound checkbook," Belle snaps in return.

After a few moments she grudgingly shimmies back into the seat so she's facing the direction they're traveling in rather than knees pressed into the door handle. She frowns as looks down at her hands as they sit in her lap.

"Do you really think I'm that awful a person?"

She lifts her head up and over to him and her voice shakes him; so young and impressionable it couldn't be further removed from her rage mere minutes before.

"Look, it's nothing personal, I just – "

Belle lets out a humorless laugh. "Are you kidding me, right now?"

He clears his throat and tells her, in a matter-of-fact tone that only seems to serve to infuriate her further, "In my experience, whenever money enters the equation, people tend to change their opinions on certain matters." He shrugs, apparently unaffected. "There's no shame in it."

"Money wasn't even _in _the equation till you brought it up and might I add, that is exactly the kind of thing someone who wasn't the _accused _would say," there's that bite in her tone again as she adds, " – and yes, there is."

She's looking at him now like she can't decide if she's more disgusted with herself or him. It's not the first time he's seen such an expression, and he's never wanted a repeat performance.

"You think just because you have all this money and the power that comes with it that you can just buy and sell people," she grits out, and there's no mistaking the disbelief in her tone, its colored with disappointment and he'd know that sound anywhere; it's followed him his whole life.

"That's not – " Chuck starts to refute her claims and then stops himself; why bother?

She watches him for a moment; curious about the haunted look in his eyes that tells of a past not nearly buried enough.

"Maybe that's how it works here, I don't know, I'm not from here – and maybe it's a good thing I'm not, because I believe there are some things that you just can't put a price on."

She sighs in the silence, counts to ten in her head and tries not to be anymore of the judgmental little witch her brother used to accuse her of being.

"Look, I'm not saying I'll never take money from you, because let's be real," she cracks a smile in case he looks her way so he can see she's trying to relieve some of the tension if nothing else, "kids are expensive, you have an abundance of it, and even deadbeat dads are expected to pay something towards childcare."

The only indication that he's picked up on the slight change of mood is when he dryly responds to her last remark with one of his own, "Your faith in my future ability as a parent is astounding."

She ignores him, although her lips are softer at the edges, crinkling around the smooth skin of her cheeks.

"But that's not why I came to you," she reminds him, "I really do just want you to be part of our child's life."

He's still not entirely convinced, that much is obvious; and she supposes, if she was to think about this rationally (channel some of that risk assessment her brother does for a living), she couldn't entirely blame him for his skepticism.

"If you'd slammed the door in my face and told me you never wanted to see me again, I'd have cursed you six ways from Sunday, but I'd be able to make it without you," she informs him; and she's not trying to be cruel, telling him in not so many words that she doesn't actually need him to be there; and she's not trying to sound like some sort of saint, seeking out the father of her child so he actually gets to see them grow up.

She figures it's just life, like parenting in general; if you ever want to be any good at it, at some point you just have to take responsibility for the things you've done and either try to live with the success and failure in tandem and or try and rectify the errors as best you can.

"I have money, granted nowhere near as much as you, but I'm not and never will be anything close to destitute – I have the means and ability to earn, and there are plenty of people around me who are more than willing to help," she informs him, because it's true. Sure she may never have the riches he does, but she was never raised to believe money is the be all and end all; so while it certainly has its advantages, she's hardly about to fall to that way of thinking now. "Just because my child doesn't have their billionaire father in their life does not mean they'd go without, so it really is up to you."

The thought's never occurred to her to deliberately keep him away. It's just not within her nature to deny a father the right to know his child, not when she's lived it from the other side; not when her own had no choice in the matter and he does. Right here and now, Chuck has a choice.

"And before you say you could probably have my child taken away from me, because that's what money and influence buys you, you're right; that's another risk I was willing to take when I came to see you," she says it all so matter-of-factly, so simply. "But you're my baby's father and it might sound dramatic or irrational to you, but I honestly wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd kept this from either of you, knowing that I knew who you were and how to find you."

"This is beginning to feel like a Lifetime movie," Chuck grumbles after a long minute has passed, "All this sentimental mumbo-jumbo and the meaning of life and all that rot that they wrap up into clichés to try and teach the next generation something they think is actually worthwhile."

Belle rolls her eyes, exhaling around a laugh of disbelief. "You are such an ass."

"And if I remember correctly, you had a rather delectable one," he leers in return, casting her a look up and down and then most specifically round the side, "Baby hasn't ruined that, has it?"

"I wouldn't know," she responds tartly, all too aware that not only has he effectively dismissed any and all of her attempts to get him to give her an answer as to his intentions towards their child's future (a real response, not his seemingly typical 'let's throw money at the problem and see if it goes away' response), "I'm not the narcissist in this relationship."

"Little presumptuous, aren't we?"

He grins abruptly at her, eyebrows raised in amusement.

She fits him with a look. "I meant as _parents _– God, that sounds weird – I'm not falling at your feet begging you to let me keep you company in bed every night."

He shakes his head, smirking, and pointing out with all the self-confidence of a boy who's barely heard the word 'no' directed towards him in his life, "Like you'd actually refuse the offer."

"Are you quite done insulting me enough for one day?" she asks as she falls back against the leather seats with a groan, "I'm beginning to see why people get so pissed off when the birth control fails."

He looks her up and down, pointedly lingering on her pregnant stomach, "You're only realizing this now?"

"Shut up," she mutters.

He raises an eyebrow at her and remarks, "And might I add, _now _you're beginning to sound like a gold-digging whore. What did you do? Take a needle to all the condom wrappers?"

"Please, like I wanted this." She narrows her eyes at the mere suggestion; that she'd ever stoop so low, be that deceitful, "I've already lived through the young mother routine, it was hardly my intention to do it all over again with my own child."

She scuffs sole of her foot on the limo floor and glares at it when her toe catches on the carpeting and jumps a step.

"It was not my goal in life to celebrate my twentieth birthday by getting knocked up," she says, "Nor did I want to punctuate my graduation by growing ever closer to becoming a single mother and living on a completely different continent, relying on my brother to help me like I'm incapable of being self-sufficient."

"I thought we agreed we were in this _together_," he pipes up at that, and she can see him pouting at her from the corner of her eye.

She turns and slowly fits him with an unimpressed look, because really, _now _is the time he chooses to be a cocky bugger and basically tell her he's going to be there for their kid? And that's how he does it too?

She shakes her head; he really is such a dick.

"How quaint," she repeats his earlier words, and just because she's still mad at him, she adds, "And your wingman does the wounded puppy dog act so much better."

He shrugs, apparently completely unfazed by her insult; seriously how does he compartmentalize this much?

"We all have our strengths."

She laughs at that, looking at him all wide-eyed and frankly, amazed. "Oh my God, everything's a compliment to you, isn't it?"

"Just because you might not like what someone has to say about you doesn't detract from the fact that you're important enough to warrant them thinking of you in the first place, or they wouldn't have said anything at all."

She rolls her eyes at him; that phrase about people _oozing _confidence was clearly made to fit the bill of his character.

He holds out the decanter to her, gesturing to the two glasses set out by his side and she declines with a shake of the head. It may only be water, but she'll say one thing for him; despite his tendencies to be a complete ass at times, his manners are impeccable. Her Gran and Granda would've loved him – not the getting their only granddaughter pregnant part, they'd both have had a turn at ringing his neck out for that – but the manners and etiquette, _that_ they'd have practically swooned over.

"And that," he concludes, free-pouring the liquid into the glass and punctuating his point with the practiced ease of twisting his wrist _just so _in order to stop the steady flow when he's satisfied he has enough, "is enough to boost anyone's ego."

She shakes her head at his logic, commenting, "How philosophical of you."

"Indeed," he murmurs in agreement, pausing as he lifts the glass to his mouth to salute her and add rakishly, "Stick around, you might learn something."

She smiles at him, unable to help herself, but she's still testing the waters somewhat as she asks him in an ever-so-serious tone, "Is that your way of saying you've decided to be a physical presence in our offspring's life rather than simply throwing dollar bills at me?"

"Well I can hardly throw you out on the streets now we know you're the mother of my child," he comments and then frowns at her as he continues with, "And do stop referring to yourself as some sort of hooker, won't you? You're carrying the Bass heir, we do have some standards."

"_Now _we know," Belle mocks his tone, choosing to ignore his other comment; he clearly enjoys trying to get a rise out of her, and he manages it far too easily for her liking. She'll blame the excess hormones.

"Yes," Chuck returns, smug smirk on his lips as they curl around the rim of his glass and he takes a generous swig. "Now _we_ know."

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>I feel I should apologise for my portrayal of Blair last chap. I'm trying not to be so influenced by the present happenings, but it's hard – I'll try harder lol but that doesn't mean CB will come easy. She should appear again soon though.<p>

Thanks for reading, your thoughts are always welcomed  
>Steph<br>xxx


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

.

_"It's hard to argue  
>when you won't stop making sense<br>But my tongue still misbehaves,  
>and keeps digging my own grave."<br>__**'Hands Open', Snow Patrol**_

.

"So she was telling the truth then," Serena says, the full weight of what they've just been told starting to sink in for real now.

"You really did get a girl pregnant," Nate adds, releasing a breath of slight disbelief.

"So it would appear," Chuck offers by way of an answer, as he watches them from the armchair, rotating the glass in his hand.

"Wow," he breathes out next.

"Wait," the blonde by his side frowns and then spins her gaze round to her brother, an abrupt smile rising high on her cheeks, and removing any trace of previous doubt over the situation, "You're telling me I'm going to be an Auntie?"

"Way to keep the focus on someone else for a change, sis," is Chuck's droll response to that.

She throws a mock pout his way, complete with scowl. "Well, one of us has to be excited about this."

"Oh, believe me I'm excited – ecstatic, in fact," he tells her, standing to walk over to the bar and deposit the still full glass on the counter. "I've had such positive parental influences in my life, what could possibly go wrong?"

"Hey," Serena says, coming over to join him and placing her hands on his shoulders, "You'll be a great Dad, Chuck."

"Yeah, man," Nate agrees as he appears by his best friend's side, cracking a smile, "Just think of everything Bart did to you, and then do the opposite."

Chuck fits him with a sideways glance. "I have a feeling that might not be the best route to take, but I'll be sure to keep it in mind, Nathaniel, thank you."

He shrugs, grinning. "Well, you never know."

"Come on, Chuck, you'll be great – look at how my Mom is with you," Serena says, and there's no bitterness in her tone so much as honest truth, and a slight tinge of marvel. "She was lousy with Eric and I growing up, but then you came along and apparently she really did want things to be different in her life, and she really tried with you, and it worked out."

"I have always felt this kinship with her," Chuck observes with a slight tilt of the head as he regards his sister's point, "Shared certain personality traits and what have you."

Nate cracks a smile at that, ducking his head; he remembers Serena recounting some of the tales of her mother's youth. Seeing the woman she is now, he can't help but agree with Chuck's assessment, and hey – if Lily van der Woodsen-Bass-Humphrey (and all the others that came before) can be classed as a good parent, then he has no doubt his best friend will be off the charts. He has faith in him.

"See?" Serena voices, her face bright with optimism and hope for what's to come.

"And Lily has always been championing my corner," Chuck muses aloud.

"Exactly!" Nate cheerfully agrees. "Not to mention how _responsible _you are with Monkey."

"Monkey's a dog, Nathaniel," is the deadpan response he receives for that, and even Serena frowns across at him.

"Yeah, but you look after him well enough," Nate defends his point. "So really he's like practice, before the baby comes along."

"I'm sure Belle would just love to hear your theories on how owning a dog makes me prime material for fatherhood," Chuck's sarcasm replies.

"Well, I think it does," he refutes, "And Monkey's only part of the equation, you run your own company, Chuck – this is your hotel, not Bart's – and with everything that's happened… you've grown up, Chuck, and you've become a great man in your own right and…" he shrugs, giving his best friend a genuine smile, "I'm glad you're my best friend."

Chuck looks like he's trying not to smile with the way the corners of his lips are only twitching, but he quite help himself, even as he quips, "Why Nathaniel, who knew the prospect of becoming an Uncle would turn you into such a sap?"

He just laughs, bestowing another compliment on the other. "Your kid's lucky to have you Chuck."

"Yeah, yeah," his best friend fobs him off with a good-natured roll of the eyes, but Nate grabs him and pulls him in for a hug before Chuck can stop him.

"You _guys_!" Serena cries out as he reaches out a hand and blindly pulls her into their fold. He hears his best friend chuckle at his sister's squirming, her hair and arms and legs getting tangled up with their mix of limbs in the jumbled embrace.

When he finally lets them go, Chuck sends him a grateful look, before they both turn to Serena as she tries to right herself, huffing because she was _trying _to tell them something. His best friend smirks amusedly at his sister as Nate tries not to laugh.

"So…" She looks at the pair of them expectantly, as if they should already know what she's about to say, "… who's going to tell Mom?"

Nate looks between the siblings, but before Chuck even gets the chance to speak, Serena's already continuing on.

"I vote I get to do it – or at the very least I want to be there when you do," she tells her brother, biting her lip to attempt to contain a smile as she looks at them both then and the glee overtakes her with the words: "I cannot _wait_ to see her face when she realizes that it's you, out of _all _her children, Chuck, who's making her a grandmother _at her age_." Serena practically cackles at the prospect, mocking what she knows will be her mother's reaction, "It'll be priceless."

"More importantly," Nate voices, putting an end to the blonde's overflowing amusement with the sobering question, "Who's going to tell Blair?"

"There's no need to tell Blair anything," his best friend quickly instructs.

"Chuck, are you crazy?" Serena cuts in at that, her thoughts shifting immediately from humor to horror. "She's going to find out sooner or later, and trust me, it'll be far better for everyone if she hears it from you first."

"Blair's currently preoccupied with Humphrey right now; she's not my concern – what is my concern is the future life of my child," Chuck tells them.

Neat shares a look with Serena; they both know that there's likely very few moments when Blair is not on Chuck's mind. This won't end well.

"I've already had the papers drawn up and sent over to Belle for her to sign," his best friend informs them, and then with a pointed look at each of them in turn, Chuck adds, "Until then, we say nothing."

"I can't believe she agreed to sign a contract that stipulates how she should parent her own child," Serena comments at that.

"It's not like that," her brother counters. "It's simply a safeguard to protect the child should anything happen to one of us."

The blonde sends him a look like she doesn't quite believe him; Nate absentmindedly wonders if she's referring to the time when Lily and Bart tried to instill all those rules on their family for the purposes of appearance rather than the more cohesive, invested living arrangement they claimed was their intension.

"We're not married and though right now she's intent on having me as part of our child's life, circumstances can change," Chuck tells them, still speaking so matter-of-factly.

"You're protecting yourself," Nate says at that. "I get it."

"I'm simply doing what's best for all of us," his best friend rephrases.

"No, look, I get it man – I mean, look what happened to Dan," he explains, "Granted, he was stupid enough to listen to Georgina Sparks, but still – he got attached to her kid and then she just upped and left one day and this whole part of his life that he'd set up for fatherhood suddenly got ripped away from him."

It hasn't escaped him that his best friend seems the only calm one in the room; he's not drinking, another sign Nate knows it's serious. He's not sure it's quite sunk in with the dark haired male yet: fatherhood, having a baby. Sure, he's saying the words and going through the motions right now, but Nate can't help but notice that Chuck has yet to actually show any real _feelings _over the matter.

"I get it," Nate repeats, "You don't want to get hurt like that."

He's still not been met with a response.

"You're doing the right thing," he reassures his best friend, grip firm and supportive on his shoulders as Serena looks on with a smile and a nod that agree with him.

"I already knew that," Chuck declares, and then slowly he smirks, clapping his hand on Nate's shoulder in return, and winking at him, "But thanks for the vote of confidence."

.

Serena's eyes go wide at the sight of her caller ID. "It's Blair," she hisses.

"So answer it," Nate tells her like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"And say what?" she requests; because how can he seriously be oblivious to this right now?

"Umm… hello?" he offers, frowning at her sudden behavior.

How can he be so calm when she's already started to panic? Clearly. "But what if she asks about Chuck and Mira?"

"Why would she?" Nate replies, his brow still creased as he tries to work out where her head's at. Honestly, she'd swear he doesn't pay attention to what's going on around him half the time.

"I don't know," she offers sarcastically, before adding blankly, "Because she's _Blair_?"

"Serena, the only way she's going to find out about Chuck and Mira is if _someone _tells her, and since I know you have no intentions of doing that, you'll be fine. Just answer the phone and talk to her."

"Ok, you're right, I'll be fine," she reassures herself, taking a deep breath in and out and then in again before pressing the answer button and mustering her brightest voice and accompanying smile to greet her best friend. "B!"

"Hey S," Blair answers genially. "I just wondered if you wanted to meet up again today? We were having such a good time yesterday, but I feel like I hardly got to see you before you had to run off to deal with whatever it was Nate deemed an _emergency_."

She can tell the brunette is rolling her eyes at the thought of her excuse the previous day. Nate had called her to tell her that Dom had stopped by and he and Chuck had gotten into an argument over something her brother had done to Mira and _her _brother. Naturally Serena had instantly taken it to be something to do with the baby and the paternity and assumed that Chuck had switched the results of the test. Thankfully she'd turned out to be wrong; because she can only imagine the hassle _that _would've caused on top of everything else. She'd made an excuse to Blair and rushed out of there and back to The Empire as soon as she could, only to find the matter apparently resolved

She's starting to realize this is going to be a lot harder than she'd originally thought; and she is _so _not a good enough liar for this kind of work. Not to mention the stress of it all! She plans to bill her brother for multiple spa trips; she's going to need them.

"Oh, yeah, that," Serena laughs, trying to cover the nervousness in her voice, and ignores the look he sends her as she says, "Well we got it sorted – you know Nate, such a drama queen."

"So what do you think?" Blair prompts.

"About meeting up?" Serena asks, and then before her best friend can respond she carries on, "I'm not sure, B, I'm pretty busy right now. I'm sorry about running off yesterday, but it was great to see you and catch up. And I'm really glad you're doing well. We'll have to do it again sometime. Ok, bye!"

She hangs up quickly before she can think anymore and releases a long breath.

When she straightens she finds Nate staring at her with an expectant look on his face. "What was that?"

"We just found out Chuck's about to become a _father, _Nate," she replies when she finds her voice again. "How am I supposed to just meet up with Blair and act as if I don't know that?"

"It's not like we're going to keep it from her forever, just, you know, till things have settled down a bit," he replies vaguely, with a shrug.

That does nothing to instill the confidence in her that she's going to need to pull this off. "Well, until then I don't know if I can do this."

"And by _this_ you mean actually spend time with your best friend?" he surmises.

"By _this_ I mean spend time with my best friend and _lie _to her about something so important," she counters just as easily, because she believes it.

"So your solution is to what? Just ignore her? Pretend she doesn't exist?" Nate questions, and looks set to scoff _how's that working out for you?_ Just to add insult to injury. Thankfully he doesn't.

"Worked for her with Dan," she finds herself muttering in the absence of his extra words.

"Serena," he intones, giving her a look, holding out his arms to her, "Seriously?"

"_Seriously_, Nate?" she repeats his words along with her answer, "I'm not going to just lie to her face."

"Fine," he sighs, knowing he's not going to win this one, yet not quite ready to give up the fight, "But you can't avoid her forever."

"I'm not planning to," Serena tells him, and she means it, "Just until Chuck tells her the truth."

"Great," Nate voices, the sarcasm heavy in his voice; because realistically neither of them are really looking forward to the aftermath of Chuck telling Blair he's fathering a child with someone else. No matter their circumstances right now, that has repercussions for their future, and Chuck and Blair's future was always supposed to be spent as one.

.

"I'm not signing this," is what Chuck is told by way of greeting; tone leaving no room for argument, as a folder plummets forcefully into his half-eaten breakfast.

He looks up from his coffee to meet Belle's silently fuming face.

"Well, good morning to you too," he greets breezily.

"You didn't seriously think I'd agree to those terms? Or do you really think me that naïve?"

"While I admit some of the points may seem a tad archaic and obviously weren't to your liking," he gestures down to his plate where the manner in which she deposited said points speaks volumes for her thoughts on them, "Was it really necessary to ruin my breakfast?"

He lifts the folder between the tips of his fingers and drops it on the other side of the table with a look of mild disgust which he then turns on her.

"Oh, were you not finished?" she feigns innocence and then immediately glares at him, "Sorry, I just presumed since it already looked like such a mess I could just add some more crap to the pile."

"You know, even in this day and age people accept matters that may not be entirely to their liking, but represent the desires of the other person involved. It's called a compromise," he enlightens her.

"It's called being caught out by the fine print," she counters. "Dom had some of his people look over it."

"Your brother has people now?" he asks, amusement coloring his tone and lifting an eyebrow in accompaniment.

"Colleagues, whatever," she dismisses his attempt before he has a chance to push it further along the same vein.

"Well, human error could be said to be accountable for quite a number of rather glaringly obvious tropes in the legal system. Why I know someone who signed a pre-nup with a clause that included having to pay a dowry if she deflected from the marriage – and she has two lawyers for fathers."

"Right, your ex, the princess," Belle acknowledges, before shaking her head and commenting, "I forget it's like stepping into another world with you people, where ridiculous things happen on a daily basis."

"What can I say? It keeps things interesting," Chuck responds to that, lips curling with the smug look on his face.

"Well, you know what's not interesting?" she starts with a sickly smile, before it descends into an unimpressed scowl once more as she continues, "Sitting for hours on end with a bunch of boring old men from various legal departments as they pour over page after page of your _ridiculous_ contract, waiting to see what other _unbelievable_ concoction you're going to come up with next – and not being able to _leave_ until they're finished because they're doing you a favor and it has to be done sometime, so better to get it over with as soon as possible, no matter how mind-numbingly _dull _the whole affair is."

He can't help but grin at that. "So you found it entertaining then?"

"Oh my _God!_" she lets out a strangled scream and promptly lifts the still full, but recently sodden paper-wallet and slaps him hard on the chest with it, letting the folder drop into his lap, trailing food and sauce all the way down the front of his waistcoat and blazer lapels to the top of his neatly pressed pants. "I do not need this right now!"

"This is a brand new suit!" he cries out at her attack, scraping back his chair and hastily trying to brush off the particles staining it, glaring at her already retreating figure.

"Get used to it!" she calls over her shoulder, spinning round as she steps into the elevator and angrily jamming the button to close the doors on his equally irritated person. "Babies throw up on you all the time."

.

"Hey Nate – Chuck here?" he hears his best friend being asked and with a roll of the eyes and a sigh he prepares to rise to meet with the elder. He briefly considers a preemptive strike of hitting the other first just to get it out of the way, but then realizes that even if he was more of a fighter than a lover, it'd likely only cause moreproblems for him, and he really doesn't need that right now.

"Yeah, he's in his room I'll just get him for you," is the reply and he groans as it reaches his ears.

A moment later, his bedroom door opens and Nate steps inside. "Hey, so Dom's here to talk to you."

Chuck drops his hands from his eyes and looks across at his best friend, eventually replying, "I can't possibly imagine what he could want."

"Probably something to do with Mira," his best friend suggests and then grins across at the suit that hangs in the corner with the protective cover of his dry cleaners keeping it from further harm, "And the fact your wardrobe looked like it became the victim of a food fight earlier. What happened, man? You miss your mouth when you were eating breakfast?"

"Hilarious, Nathaniel," he deadpans as he sits up and then rises from the bed, buttoning his jacket and striding towards the doorway, "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Nate saunters back to his room, with a final remark that he's only a shout away if Chuck needs a bodyguard again, and Chuck rolls his eyes and considers flipping his best friend off for his total lack of humor.

Dom rises from his place when he enters and he waves off the courteous sentiment from the other.

"Dominic," he greets the other as he nears the couch, "You've not started our conversation by striking me so I'd say we're off to a good start. To what do I owe the pleasure this time?"

"Chuck," the elder returns, smiling at the remark as he retakes his seat, "I heard you and my sister had another disagreement this morning."

"You could call it that," he replies, clearly still miffed about the whole affair, "She ruined a perfectly good suit."

Dom simply continues to smile, apparently fully aware of what occurred not so long ago between the two. "She has my Gran's temper."

"How lovely for her," Chuck replies with mild disinterest.

The elder frowns, and informs him, "Well, she's dead, so not really."

"You have my sympathies," he says then.

"Right, although I'd imagine they're more geared towards the sorry state of your suit at the moment," Dom returns.

"Actually no," Chuck counters, "I sent it off to get cleaned straight away and the women there apparently work miracles so there remains no trace of the little _disagreement_ your sister and I had this morning."

"Wonderful," is the conclusion to that, "Then I'll be happy to pick up the tab."

He waves off the generosity, "No need, it's taken care of."

"Naturally," Dom comments, his lips curving like he should've known better. After a moment he draws in a breath and says, "Look, Chuck, it wasn't entirely your fault."

"What a refreshing thought," he drolly responds to that.

"The stuff with the contract, any other time, she'd have just dismissed it as you trying to be funny when really we both know you were just being a dick," he rolls his eyes and exhales, conceding, "Still, you could bond over the hilarity of it all or whatever it is I imagine was your intention."

"Is this where you tell me that her hormone imbalance was especially unstable today and I just so happened to bear the brunt of her anger?" Chuck inquires as he tries to gauge the other's response.

"Something like that," the elder answers, and then looks mildly apologetic as he explains, "My ex is over for a visit and I said she could stay at the apartment – "

" – But your sister's living there with you," he interjects.

" – and the two don't get on at the best of times, never mind when one of them is pregnant," Dom trails off.

"So is this your way of asking me to take one of them off your hands?" Chuck asks, and then figures he might as well just go for it; adding with a smirk, a raise of the eyebrow, and a cocky tone, "Or maybe both of them?"

Dom just laughs. "Nice. No. I've already got M set up in a hotel – "

" – not The Empire?" he remarks, shaking his head and _tut-tut_-ing his disapproval of the plan already, "How you people wound me."

"But needless to say," the elder merely continues like he missed the interruption, though the way the corners of his lips tweak upwards tells Chuck he heard him, "my sister's not exactly enamored by the fact _she _was the one to have to find somewhere else to stay, regardless of the time limit involved and the fact that she was the one who insisted on moving even when I told her to just stay because they'd probably hardly even see each other anyway," he drags in a breath, slaps a smile on his face and concludes, "But M likes to be difficult like that. Plus, she's never exactly been one to not make her anger known, so here we are."

"So what you're telling me is: try not to poke the sleeping dragon any more while you enjoy your little get-together with the ex?" Chuck concludes from that long-drawn-out speech; he's beginning to see where Belle gets it from; God he hopes his kid doesn't chat half as much as these two, he'll be worn out just listening to it babble, nevermind when it reaches the stage of forming coherent sentences.

"That," Dom agrees, adding, "And it wouldn't kill you to apologise once in a while."

"What for?" he demands, not bothering to hide his outrage at such a statement, "I thought we already established she was the one at fault – she nearly _destroyed _a brand new suit!"

"And you've been making her jump through hoops to prove herself when all she's trying to do is give you the chance to be there for your kid," is the elder's calm retort.

"There's a reason for the paternity test and the contract," Chuck grits out; because why should he be made the bad guy, he's just trying to protect himself.

"Yeah, and I get that – so does she," is Dom's response, if somewhat grudging, "but you keep pushing her like you're testing her limits and pressing her buttons to see what makes her react and it's no wonder she snaps sometimes."

"She gives as good as she gets," he tells her brother; because he won't be painted as the villain here.

"Oh, I'm well aware," is the elder's answer to that, complete with knowing look, "But you gotta give her a break sometimes. Everyone needs a breather now and then, and hey," he cracks a smile, "she's breathing for two now."

Chuck sends the other a flicker of a glare, because that was just awful, though he relents all the same, "Fine. Maybe I'll give her the benefit of the doubt occasionally."

"So charitable of you," is the return remark.

"Don't push it," he half-heartedly warns the elder.

All he gets for his trouble is Dom's laughter and the comment, "God, your kid's gonna be a bloody-minded little thing."

"Don't you have a job to get back to?" he asks, glancing at the clock.

"Right, while you and Nate don't," is the response, with a shake of the head in mild amazement, "What it is to be the boss, eh?"

"Well, I'm sure if you continue to be successful in your field, what we have can one day be yours, Dominic," he says in a completely condescending tone.

"Oh, the irony of the trust fund baby who acts like a self-made man," Dom replies laughingly.

Chuck purses his lips together in a smile. "Have fun working for The Man."

"Feel free to come by and _apologise _later – you already know where we live, and she's got to come back and get some more of her stuff at some point," the elder tells him before swiveling on his heel and starting towards the elevator.

"So now I'm running on you and your sister's time, am I?" Chuck says to that, rolling his eyes. "Wonderful."

"Get used to it," Dom calls back, grinning as the doors start to shut between them. "Who d'you think gets to dictate visiting hours?"

Like Hell he's letting her have the only say in that. He'll see his kid when he damn well wants to and if that's every minute of everyday then she'll just have to deal with it. That was one of the main purposes of the contract, after all, to ensure he gets to spend time with his child.

He's not his father; he's not Bart. His child will know that they're loved; he'll make sure of it. If it's all he does in this life, he'll love his child so much they never have any room in their heart to doubt their father wanted them all along.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>I'm going to try and keep the chapter-a-day till the next episode, so depending on how many I manage to crank out it may finish before or just after the new ep airs.<br>If anyone wants to leave a comment or two along the way, it'll much appreciated :)

Thanks for reading.  
>Steph<br>xxx


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

.

"_There are some things that we all choose to believe, and sometimes what we choose to believe is more important than anything else."  
><em>_**Unknown**_

.

He goes by the apartment; this time actually bothering to take note of the features and neighborhood, he has to grudgingly accept that it's actually in a not bad area – _not bad_ as in, it's not across a certain bridge, and it's not that far from where he resides – and it's an acceptable looking residence. Not to his taste; but he supposes not everyone has billions of dollars at their disposal.

Dom answers the door, dressed down in a pair of dark jeans and grey woolen sweater, the red collar of his polo folded over the neckline. Chuck smirks, so maybe the elder doesn't quite share Nate's style, but at least he'd gotten the part about him not being able to spend all day in a suit right. He'll take that little victory.

"She's in the other room," the other says, nodding in the direction he's referring to and then moving to walk back along the corridor. He half-turns a moment later to comment over his shoulder, waving his hand airily and rolling his eyes at the prospect of them doing as he asks them not to: "Try not to get in an almighty fight with the shouting and the throwing things, will you not? The walls aren't soundproofed and I like my possessions as they are."

He ignores the elder's remark and the smile that accompanies it, and goes in search of Belle. He finds her sitting on the couch in the living room with a laptop propped up in front of her, stealing all of her attention.

The first thing that greets him is her scowl, followed by the words, "I hate you."

He stops where he is by the partition and waits silently to hear what comes next.

"I can't believe you called me right when you're all about to go out," she chastises, and he realizes she's directing the words at whoever is on the screen in front of her, out of his view, "How unbelievably cruel of you."

He hears laughter in the background and then the, evidently female, reply: "It's not our fault you decided to ditch us all and move across the Atlantic to a completely different time-zone."

And then another voice chimes in with, "Yeah, an' you called us, M!"

"Well you didn't have to answer!" is the brunette's exasperated response, but she sighs a moment later, relenting, "I really miss you, you know."

"We miss you too," is the response from the apparent huddle of girls on the other end of the video-call.

"Just come home, M," the first to speak says to her softly then.

"I can't," Belle replies in the same tone.

"Yes, you can," and it's the other female's turn to be exasperated now. "You don't need to do this, you don't need _him_."

Chuck is in no doubt as to whom they are referring; he figures there's a reason he's skulking in the shadows and this is as good as any. Why reveal his presence when he could listen in on her conversation with her friends and find out what she really thinks instead?

"Look, we know why you're doing it, Mira," another female voice joins the group, "But you don't owe this guy anything."

"I know _I _don't," Belle says, "But he's still the father of my baby."

"So what?" is the outburst from the first girl at that (he's taken to numbering them by order of appearance to keep better track of them in his head), "Plenty of women raise kids on their own, Mira, and _you_ wouldn't even _be _alone – we'll be there for you every step of the way, just like we were _before _you upped and left us to go on your crazy crusade."

The brunette rolls her eyes good-naturedly at them and smiles; obviously she can see they're coming from a place of concern from her wellbeing. He can't, all he sees is people who want to keep him from knowing his child… except her. It makes him ever more curious to hear what she has to say about it: in an environment of her own making and with people she chooses to confide in; she has no reason to lie here, to hide what she really thinks from them. He knows he won't get another chance like this, so he stays where he is and continues to watch and listen.

This way he'll know if she's been telling the truth about everything; this way he might actually be able to believe it when she tells him she only wants to give him the chance to know his child.

"Look, M, I know you didn't know your dad and you want to give this guy a chance, but what if he doesn't deserve one?"

"Everyone deserves to know their child," Belle bites out; apparently this is a touchy subject.

"Do they?" her friend asks, the second one, obviously used to weathering this storm before. "How well do you really know him, Mira?"

"Well enough," is her short reply.

"Really? Enough to know if he's fit to be a father?" the second girl blows out a sigh that frazzles the speakers, "I mean, _Hell_, Mira, has he even shown any interest in _wanting _to be a father to the kid?"

"Look, you can't blame him for being skeptical," the brunette answers, clearly in the beginning stages of becoming extremely annoyed as she goes on the defensive, "You were all just as bad as me when that _boot_ turned up on Dom's doorstep spouting the same lines I probably used on Chuck."

"That's different," is the easy response from one of the other girls, mood shifting.

"How?" Belle asks, rolling her eyes and throwing up her hands.

"Well, we _like _Dom," is one reply, and there's slight amusement coloring the tone.

She just shakes her head; apparently she should've been expecting this.

"Plus," the first girl picks up from the other's initial point of response, "We all knew she was sleeping with other people even though she claimed to love him, but it didn't matter because when she crawled her way back to him he still took her back like he always does. And of course he did, because that's what they're like, so while there was that possibility we were wrong – a very _slight _possibility mind – we knew it wouldn't have mattered what any of us said, because he has this thing with her; he won't ever be rid of her."

"Well, he should know better by now," is Belle's grumpy response to that.

"You're not really gonna make me say it, are you?" her friend asks with a slight groan.

"That doesn't apply here," the brunette simply answers; and he agrees, because he read the files his PI dug up and what happened with her brother is not the same as what's happening here. Not least, because he's made sure to do his homework first and even without the added information, he could already tell that Belle is nothing like her brother's ex.

"M," another of the girl's says gently, "I know what you told us about Hawaii, and I know you genuinely believe that he should have the chance to get to know his child, but – M, just _Google_ him for God's sake, and you'll see. He's not the best influence to have around you."

"Some of the things he's done, Mira…" the second girl continues from the other, trailing off. "He's not – you don't _do _those kind of things to the people you're supposed to care about, M, not to mention the stuff he's done to those he doesn't care about."

Though he wants to be ashamed, though he _is _ashamed, he's so angry right now to bother about anything else. They're judging him and they're using everything he's done in the past to justify denying him a future. It doesn't matter where they're from, people are all the same.

"And it's not just him – it's all of them," the first girl continues. "That guy – Nate, _his best friend_, and his _sister_ – and then his ex, Blair."

"Look, stop, alright!" she near-shouts, holding up her hands for them to do just that. She turns her palms inward and runs them over her face, taking a deep breath in and closing her eyes. "Just stop."

"I'm sorry, Mira, it's just – "

"I know you're all just looking out for me, and you just want what's best for me, but I really need you to understand something," her hands are clasped in front of her now, resting above the keyboard as she inhales and tells them, "I genuinely believe he deserves to know his child."

Chuck waits to hear what else she has to say, is scared to breathe in case he gives away his position and ruins this moment; the one he hadn't quite realized he'd been waiting for till it came along.

"We've all made mistakes in the past, granted some far worse than others; but from everything I've seen of him, he seems to genuinely be trying to be different. I don't know if that's better than what he was before, but as long as he's going to be there for our baby I don't really care about anything else right now. And I know that's just plain selfish and sure, maybe I'm just being naïve 'cos he's been pretty much a dick to me thus far, but how can I say that's reason enough to intentionally keep his child from him?" Belle shrugs, her face honest, open, "I can't."

"M – "

"He's only trying to protect himself," the brunette continues, her tone softer; less harsh, more understanding as she appeals to them to be the same, "He doesn't have a Dom and a you lot you physically hold him down and knock the sense into him. His _sister _and his _best friend_ try, but they don't seem to really hold a candle to you lot and your extreme measures."

"Believe me, if we were there you'd have been pinned to the floor days ago," one of the girls says, and he watches Belle smile at this; watches it morph into laughter and sees the change overtake her whole body. It reminds him of Serena; how even the smallest spark of enjoyment could transform her whole being.

"I know," she replies, her face alight and her voice kind, although there's still an unyielding thread that remains, which tells them this is something she's not ready to let go of yet, if ever, "And that's why I love you. But you know I'm right, you know I need to do this. Chuck knows the baby's his now, if he doesn't want any part of its life then that's up to him, but I'm not deciding for him. I won't do that."

"You're too good, you know," voices the third girl to join their group chat.

"Now I know you must feel bad for snooping on him and trying to manipulate me like that because we _all_ know I am anything _but!_" Belle replies, laughing outright now.

"No," another of her friend's agrees; soft, but certain, "With this, it's true."

"Well," Belle says with a shrug, and she barely has to consider it as she reasons, "Only 'cos I lived the other side and know how shitty it can be half the time."

"You never needed your Dad to save you, M," the first of the girl's tells her at that, apparently picking up on what the brunette isn't saying, "You did that all on your own."

"With a little help from your friends," another chimes in, more cheerfully.

"Maybe," Belle finally answers, and then cracks a smile, rolling her eyes at the thought, though he can hear the honesty in her voice even if she tries to make it sound like a jibe, "But having my Dad there might've meant I didn't need _saving _at all, as you like to put it."

"You can't compare your childhood to what's going to happen with your kid," the first of her friends to speak continues from her prior comment, "Even if he agrees to helping you raise your baby, that doesn't mean you're kid's going to have the perfect life."

"Well, way to be all Debbie Downer about it," the brunette mutters, scowling at the girl Chuck can only hear, but can't see.

"She's channeling Cassie in her absence," the third girl quips and Belle rolls her eyes.

"Shut-up, I am not. It's called being realistic," the girl refutes, "Although you all know Cassie'd be the first to agree with me. You know I'm right."

"Maybe," Belle concedes after a moment, with a quirk of the lips. "But if there's even a chance that my baby might have his Dad in his life, that they can be happy and full and stay a part of mine – I won't deny him that. I can't."

"We know," one of the trio accepts for them all, "We're just trying to look out for you, is all."

It's swiftly followed by the second girl heaving a sigh, observing, "I guess we should just accept by now we're not going to change your mind."

"Well, if you'd just done that in the first place it would've meant you could've been out drinking and having a good time already," Belle remarks, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she points out the flaw in their plan, now somewhat entertained.

"And yet we love you, so we _stayed_," is the rebuttal, followed by a bubble of laughter from both sides. "And we always have a good time when you're around."

"Oh, _now _you flatter me?" Her chuckle stills to a small smile, and she really is more beautiful when she smiles. "But I know, and thank you," she says, and it's easy to see she genuinely means it. "Tell Cas I'm sorry I missed her."

"I'm sure she'll love that!" the first of the girls replies, and then pretends to be put out by the fact that: "She expects separate calls, you know, none of the rest of us are that demanding."

"I know!" Belle laughs along with the others, apparently fully aware of this, "So where is she anyway? Out on a hot date tonight?"

"At work," is the response she receives, evidently unimpressed.

"No!" He has to admit, as his lips quirk up at the corners, that she plays the scandalized act quite well.

"I know, right?" her friend agrees with the indignity of it all, before adding in a voice that bounces across the space, clearly amused, "Oh, but apparently we have you to blame for it, M, so _technically _you should be punished for our suffering and since our only means of communication is this…"

"You wouldn't!" Belle cries out, hands flying to either side of the screen to grab hold of the edges of her laptop, like that will actually stop them from hanging up on her.

"Well, all this _overtime _she's putting in is so she can take as many paid holiday days as she wants when you finally have the baby, so really it is all your fault," the first laments, concurring with the second; and despite himself he finds his lips remain curved upwards, feeling mildly entertained now by their interaction.

"Yeah, and when will that be exactly?" another chimes in, "I swear it's been like forever already – isn't the kid ready to see the world yet?"

Belle laughs, pats her stomach, "Not quite yet, another few months to go – and what's she talking about anyway? It's her Dad's company, not to mention he loves me, she can take as many paid holidays as she wants _right now_!"

"We know!" is the chimed agreement; like they've already been over this many a time before with the girl currently absent from their domain and find it just as ridiculous as the brunette does.

"It's all part of her grown-up, responsible route," one of her friend's enlightens her, and he can practically hear the roll of her eyes accompany the scoff in her words.

"Like she's gotta be an upstanding citizen to be the Godmother," another of the girl's mocks, directing at Belle, "We all know you've had your sights set on her since primary school!"

She seems to ignore the last point, like she knows they mean it in jest, but she doesn't want to cause any friction; instead focusing on the previous, "Maybe I should come back – remind her what _fun _she used to be."

"Yes, please do!" she instantly receives in reply.

Belle just smiles at them all.

Watching her accept them as she has, and hearing them apparently do the same for her; he supposes he could maybe gloss over what they said of him. Though he can grudgingly admit there may have been some logic in what her girls had to say, suggesting Belle simply types his name into an Internet search engine certainly pales quite considerably in comparison to some of the schemes he's employed to get his friends on his side. So while he might not like it, he can live with it.

Plus, he has a feeling that he might be seeing quite a lot of her friends over the coming years and quite frankly the fewer females he has on his case about being a father, the better. He imagines he'll have his hands full enough contending with those in his immediate vicinity without having to work through the issues of those preprogrammed to be on Belle's side as well.

"We love you, M," is the uniform chant.

"I love you all too," the brunette declares; like it's not just the only answer she could give, but the easiest, the most natural one too.

"Stay safe," they demand next, and they mean it as much as the first sentiment.

"I will," she assures them with an indulging look.

"Keep in touch," they instruct then, another clear stipulation of their separation.

"Always," she swears with a swift nod of the head.

"And don't forget about us!" they make her promise.

"Never," she vows, with a smile that shows she means it.

He turns and walks out the same way he came in, stopping only to place a small black box on the counter as he passes.

No, he won't hold it against them. After all, _what are friends for if they're not there in our time of need?_

.

Her conversation with her brother is brief. She'd found the box containing the earrings and naturally assumed he'd bought them to give to that no-good-_bitch _he's offered his apartment to while she's visiting the city. Note: the bitch isn't here to visit him, just to give him that impression long enough for him to put her up in his place while she's here, saving her the hotel bill. And it is so like her brother to fall for the bitch's act and even shower her with trinkets she doesn't even appreciate, only to be left heartbroken when she ups and leaves once she's gotten whatever it is she wants this time.

It's one of the reasons Mira understands Chuck's need to verify the paternity and try to cover himself in this whole scenario, in fact she sort of admires it (discounting the fact she's had to bear the brunt of his dick-ish ways) given she wishes she could get her brother to realize it won't kill him to concentrate on self-preservation once in a while, rather than constantly trying to do what's right by others, namely her.

"What're these?" she asks, standing in his doorway and holding up the box that was sitting on the table out in the hallway, by the entrance to the living room.

"Huh?" he asks, pulling the headphones from his ears.

She tosses them across the gap and he catches them easily, frowning at her as she stands watching him with an unimpressed look on her face, eyebrow raised, her hand on her hip and the unspoken prompt crossing the space between them: _Well?_

Dom shrugs at her. "I dunno, Chuck must've left them when he came by."

"Wait," Mira says to that, both eyebrows lifting now, "Chuck came by?"

"Yeah," her brother responds breezily, giving her a strange look, "Didn't you see him? I told him you were in the living room, watched him walk down the hall as I went back to my room."

"And I was on Skype with the girls," she responds, realization dawning on her. "Shit."

"Nice," Dom remarks then, flipping the lid and holding up the now open box to reveal the neat diamond earrings that rest within, "And you ran him out of here without even thanking him for the gift? Where have your manners gone, sis?" he _tuts_ her, shaking his head, sending her a look of mock disappointment and outrage as he exclaims, "You'd think you'd been raised in a barn!"

"Shutup," she mutters and then deftly catches the jewelry box with one hand when he throws it back with a big grin on his face.

He nods towards the door. "Well go on then."

She huffs a sigh. "You are so demanding, do you know that?"

"I've earned the right to be demanding considering I've running around after you for years," he comments, still smiling broadly.

She rolls her eyes and turns to leave.

"And don't run in those heels!" her brother calls after her. "I don't want you falling."

Mira swivels round to fit him with a look. "When have I ever?"

"Funny, but that sort of cockiness will be your downfall," he warns, pointing his finger at her reproachfully though still with an air of being thoroughly entertained. "Anything happens to the baby and it's your fault!"

"Who else's fault would it be?" she calls back.

"Just be careful," Dom tells her, and this time he's being completely serious.

"Of course, brother," Mira tosses back with a smile and swings the door shut behind her as he sighs; that's what she always says, doesn't mean it always happens.

.

"Hey man!" he shouts in greeting, eyes glued to the screen where he's currently trying to navigate his way through a war-zone. Then he spins round with a frown, "What're you doing back so soon? Thought you were going to see Mira?"

"I did, she was busy," comes the short reply.

Nate laughs, narrowly avoids being killed for his best friend. "She kicked you out? And you just let her? Wow!"

"What do you want me to say?" Chuck asks, arms extended looking for an answer, "She was talking to her friends and I thought it best not to interrupt. I was trying to be considerate."

"I bet you were," he comments, not bothering to hide his smile and then puts the controller down, turning to inform his roommate that he already knows what happened, "Dom called. She's on her way over."

"Joy," is the muttered response to that, complete with grimace as he swallows the contents of his glass.

He saves his progress and then turns the set off, clapping his best friend on the shoulder as he passes saying, "Think I'm going to make myself scarce for this if you don't mind."

"I do mind," Chuck refutes, "What happened to having my back?"

"Hey!" Nate turns, holding up his hands in defense, "I dealt with the future Uncle and we both know he's my main competition," and then he grins as he points both index fingers at Chuck, telling him almost gleefully, "Baby mama's all yours."

He watches his best friend scowl at him and mutter, "Traitor."

Nate just laughs, shaking his head at the reaction as he moves towards his room.

"She blames you too, you know!" his best friend calls out after him.

"Then it's a good thing I'm going to hide, isn't it?" he returns, beaming; he's enjoying this far too much right and it shows.

"Lucky I'm loyal or I'd sell you out in a heartbeat," his best friend remarks, placing the tumbler back on the counter and progressing towards the couch.

"Thanks for the love, man," Nate jokes and then thinks he better close the door before Chuck has enough of his laughing face and throws something in his direction to get him to stop enjoying his misfortune so much.

The hum of the chuckle still high in his throat, he steps inside his bedroom and starts to look for his headphones; he doesn't want to eavesdrop and this way if the noise gets loud enough that he can hear it over his own speakers then he'll know it's time to rush in and play hero. Otherwise he'll let his best friend save himself; Nate has faith in him, Chuck's capable of dealing with this.

.

Chuck's sitting on the sofa poring over some files when a box drops in front of his face, nearly hitting him on its descent to the table top.

He looks up to see her standing over him and scowls at her. "I'd appreciate if you stopped _throwing _things at me. Especially things I've given you."

"Well I thought I'd settle this one early on so as not to give you any ideas of what would _entertain _me or the like," she remarks, narrowing her eyes.

"And what, pray tell, did you not like about this particular offering?" he inquires tightly, holding the little box in a tense grip.

"I told you I'm not here for money and yet you keep trying to bait me with it," she tells him, exasperated, "Like I'll finally give in and you'll get the satisfaction of knowing that everyone has a price."

He exhales; that hadn't actually been his intention here, but he _supposes _he can't really blame her for the assumption given everything else. "It's a pair of earrings, Belle; it's hardly a pay-off."

She shifts, takes a moment to process what he's saying and then tells him, "Well, I don't want them."

"Why not?" he questions; because he can't see the problem here if they both know he didn't do it to push her buttons, they really were (are) just a gift.

"Alright," she says, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa and with her hands clasped in her lap (her nails are a pale grey with writing across them, he notes) she looks to him expectantly, "Tell me why I should take them."

"Because they're a gift!" he exclaims, because he'd thought that much was obvious by now.

"Well, then I suggest you get a refund, because I don't want your so-called gifts," she tells him primly, readjusting her coat so the stretched, white expanse of her top is shaded by the ecru wool lapels and the sleeves that rest across her front.

"Why the Hell not?" he demands, turning more towards her with the words. He's in a dark suit and she's all light tones and still they don't match; even if he hadn't shed his own wool overcoat he doubts that would've done much to align them. It's a trivial point, but for some reason it sticks with him.

"Because I want to know that you won't just shower our kid with presents every time you say the wrong thing, or when they do something wrong and you feel bad for telling them off and want their forgiveness for grounding them or _whatever_," she explains, like _that _should've been obvious.

"Grounding them? Really?" he can't help but ask; eyebrow raised and face the picture of amusement: such a contrast from even a minute earlier. "Hardly likely."

She breathes out as she answers, "Look, whatever, I just don't want _our child_ thinking you can simply buy your way out of everything, when all you really need to do is apologise."

"So, let me get this straight – I compose a document that in effect safe-guards you and _our child _from any financial fall-out or business deal gone wrong in my name, albeit with a few minor adjustments for my own amusement; you _attack _me with it, after you unceremoniously _dumped _it in my breakfast, effectively ruining that as well as my brand new suit – and _I'm _the one who has to apologise?"

"That's not – "

"What? A simple _thank-you for the earrings, Chuck_ is too much, now you want an apology on top of it?" he exhales sharply, shaking his head. "You are unbelievable, woman."

"God, Chuck, I'm sorry!" she finally manages to get out.

"Excuse me?" he asks, staring back at her.

"I'm sorry," Belle repeats, gesturing to him then as she says, "About your suit and the contract – all of it, it wasn't your fault, I just took it out on you, so I'm sorry."

"Oh," he voices, looking down as he mulls this over, adjusting his dark purple tie.

"That's all you've got to say?" she responds, mildly offended as well as skeptical.

"Well what do you want me to say?" he asks, actually somewhat curious to hear her reply.

"I don't know; that you accept my apology?" She throws herself back against the sofa next to him, the dramatic that she has a tendency to be, although mindful of all the paperwork and potential spillages that could incur from his nearby beverages this time.

"I bought you the earrings to apologize; does that not tell you I wasn't even expecting one from you?" he tells her, because after his conversation with her brother he'd honestly thought she'd be in no mood to do anything other than continue to blame him; he supposes he still has a lot to learn about her, things that a file or report can't tell him.

"Well, you should've," and then seems to think on it as she adjusts her words, "I mean, not all the time, because frankly some of those things you put in the contract…" she draws in a deep breath and sent him a sideways glance, summarizing, "That was _such_ a dick move, Chuck."

He can't help the laugh that escapes then, but her glare silences him from anything further; best not to bait her too much right now.

"I ended up sitting around having to talk through each and every one of those stupid points with lawyer after lawyer and it was _insanely_ dull," she tells him and then she meets his eyes fully, and concedes, "But sometimes – _most_ of the time, you'd be right to feel you're due an apology."

"Well, like you said, it was dick move," he offers by way of compromise.

She laughs this time as she watches him smirking, unable to help himself or curb even the slightest bit of pride that accompanies the statement.

"Hence the earrings," he continues, pulling the corner of his lip down just a touch to fit the shift in mood.

"They're beautiful," she says, and her face lights up with the words; beautiful is as beautiful does.

"You should keep them," is his simple response to that, because she should.

"No."

He frowns, because seriously it's like hot and cold with her and he can't quite get a clear reading on her, especially as she continues to smile at him.

"I told you, you don't need to get me a ridiculously expensive present just to say you're sorry," Belle explains, and then thinks better on it and with a rueful smile says, "I mean, I'm hardly adverse to gifts in general – and really, who can resist shiny, pretty things when they're presented so _nicely _like that? Clearly I have the willpower of a superhero – but maybe next time apologise first? And then with the shiny present? Or apologise and then give me the present just because… oh I dunno, maybe because I'm currently laid up with your spawn inside me and you'll effectively have a hold over me for the next twenty-odd years or so?"

He chuckles; he supposes he can live with that given she may have a point there.

"Plus, it's too soon; we're only just starting to actually accept the other's presence, we still don't know each other, so maybe keep them for another time? Give them to me later," she suggests and then her tongue peeks out and she bites her lip and Chuck can tell she's enjoying this now, "when you're sure I'm not here to steal all your worldly possessions or leave you with a child who looks nothing like you before running off to the other side of the world or something equally as manic and suitable for the Upper East Side?"

"I think you're fitting in enough as you are just now," he comments and it's the truth. "And I thought we already established the kid's mine."

"You know, for all I insult you lot, I'm going to take that as a compliment," she replies, looking pleased with herself. "And _we _did, you're right."

"See?" he says with a smirk, even going so far as to send her a wink with the proud assertion, "You're learning!"

"Life lessons from Chuck Bass?" she says to that, groaning loudly and shaking her head in faux despair, "Lord help me!"

She falls into his side in a fit of giggles, leaning there with a slightly more content-sounding sigh and he lifts his arm to wrap it round her shoulders in what he knows is the first moment of affection they've shared since they left Maui. It feels oddly nice, and somewhat comforting with its unspoken platonic understanding beneath it.

"I do believe you, you know," he chooses then to admit.

"Hmm?" she turns her head to look up at him and the sight of her slowly blinking eyes has him smiling; all the events of the day must've tired her out already. He thinks back to how much it took to tire her out when they first met; she's definitely losing her touch. Or maybe his has just improved; yes, that's equally, if not more, plausible.

"About not being after the money," he clarifies.

"Good," she says, satisfied as she readjusts her head in the crook of his neck and then in a tone colored with amusement follows it up with, "Did you decide that before or after you were eavesdropping on my conversation with my friends?"

His lips purse together and he forfeits, "I guess there's no point denying."

"No, there isn't," she tells him in a childlike tone with a shake of the head. Then she pulls away to look at him and asks, softer, "How much did you hear?"

He turns his body so he's looking squarely at her as he answers honestly, "Everything."

She nods, swallows; tries to digest what this means for them.

"_Thank you_," he says, answering for her, and then presses the small black box into her hands.

She lets out a laugh, looking down at the box and then back up at him, "Excuse me?"

"You're right, they were an apology gift, and I should've just said I was sorry instead," he tells her, "but now I'm saying thank you, I feel maybe it should be marked with a small gift."

"But…" she looks between the box she's yet to open and his unblinking eyes, "Why are you thanking me?"

"Because I heard what you said to your friends," he reasons, "You don't know me, not really; we're both still getting there, but you keep pushing me to accept what's going on and now I am, you still keep giving me the chance to be there, to be a part of my child's life even when I pull _such dick moves_," she lets out a little laugh at this, and he supposes he should allow it since even he'll admit his attempt to replicate her accent is not his best, "And when I don't even deserve it, when I've not even shown you that I want it, you still keep offering it up."

"And do you?" she asks, looking at him like she's been waiting to hear the answer to this question all along, which he imagine isn't far off the reality of it all. "Want it?"

"Yeah," he breathes out, ducking his head with the admission, because as much as he may have wanted it with another girl, wished it was her body that was home to his first child, dreamt of a life where she was standing by his side with their children before them; for the longest time it seems like this is all he's wanted. And it's not because he wants to prove himself better than, different from Bart; or because he's been so desperate for a family for so long. It's not even that the idea of some unconditional love being showered upon him remains the most foreign and yet sought after feeling.

It's because it's true. He really does want this; to have a child, to be a father.

Chuck turns to his head round to face her, and the smile peeks through as he confesses, "I really want it."

"Then it's yours," Belle says, like it's been that simple all along; like all she's been waiting for is him to finally tell her, one way or the other, if he wants to be part of his child's life. "I wouldn't take this away from you, Chuck, this baby's as much yours as it is mine."

"Then I guess we better start thinking of what to name our baby," he quips, before the emotion becomes too much and he fades further into thoughts he doesn't want to dwell on right now.

She smiles, so very grateful and throws her arms around his neck, murmuring, "Thank you," as they pull apart and she kisses his cheek.

She opens the box in her hands, and he watches her stare down at the earrings as they catch the light and shine brilliantly back at her, making the blue in her eyes shimmer amid the emerald green.

"What about Diamond?" Belle suggests, and then dissolves in a fit of giggles once more, leaning against him with an exhausted, but happy sigh; and he finds that somewhere in between his lips pull up into a smile too.

This may yet turn out to be one of the best things that's happened to him; not that he's going to tell her that of course.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>To make up for the majority of the focus being Chuck and Mira (and Dom) this chap, although I felt it necessary for later parts, there will be Blair in the next (and if not the next then DEF the one after) and from that point there should be more of her and the others, so not ALL focused on Mira, or Chuck and Mira. Hope that'll suffice ;)<br>I'll try have another update up today so I stay on track, if not, then tomorrow :)

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought – it really does mean a lot to me  
>Steph<br>xxx


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

.

_"And I don't know where we are going_  
><em>but we're here on this ride<em>  
><em>and we'll stand side by side<em>  
><em>all along the way."<br>_**'_There Will Be A Way,' Bad Religion_**

.

She falls asleep on his shoulder and though he feels the slightest smidgen of guilt at rousing her, he's growing restless from staying in the same position for so long and he's certainly not about to carry her to his room, so that only leaves one option.

Besides, she keeps saying she detests being treated like a china doll, so she can walk herself.

She blearily opens her eyes, rubbing at them as she wakes, looking around the space with a confused expression.

"Why am I here?" she asks, suspicious. "And why is it dark out?"

"It's called nighttime," Chuck quips, edges of his lips quirking upwards, "It's what happens when you sleep the remainder of the day away on my shoulder – if you've left drool marks, the dry cleaning is definitely on you this time."

Belle shoots him a look with the retort, "Like you'd have even let me _stay_ asleep on your shoulder if I was drooling on you."

"That's true." He smirks. "I would ask how you know that's not why I woke you, but that seems fairly transparent, since apparently I value my wardrobe more than your feelings."

"Yes, it does," she agrees, and then takes pleasure in observing, "Although, you should really think about investing in some other clothes," she looks him up and down as he sits next to her, still impeccably decked out in his dark suit from earlier. "Baby is _definitely _going to drool on that."

"Baby will do no such thing," he refutes, smoothing down his tie and readjusting his lapels.

"We'll see," she comments, with a cluck of the teeth and a wink.

"I don't think we're supposed to be exploiting our child for our own personal gain quite so early on," he remarks.

She rolls her head to the side and sends him a look, "Please, like you've not spent most of your time thinking about how you can use your newfound status as a _dilf_ to score with the ladies."

He grimaces, "I've let you hang around Nate too much."

She lets out a low, tired laugh that gets cut off with a yawn and she reaches out to grasp his wrist, tilting her head to make out the clock-hands on his watch. She groans when she realizes the time.

"You should stay," he tells her, because it's the most logical option with the least amount of energy expenditure needed to be carried out.

"Or you could get your man to drive me back to Dom's," she counters.

"Or you could stay," he repeats. "Besides," he reminds her, "You're not even staying there right now, remember?"

She scowls at the reminder and then it fades as she seems to contemplate his offer for a moment, "You're not going to stick me with the couch, are you?"

He smirks. "While the thought had crossed my mind, especially after that horrible _dilf_ comment," she smiles tiredly at that, "I think I can stretch to providing you with a bed for the night," he lifts one shoulder, motioning with his hands, "given that you are carrying my child and I'd rather have you well-rested and comfortable than cranky and in dire need of a massage."

"I dunno," she trails off, testing the cushions with both hands then, a mischievous look on her face, "Sofa doesn't seem that bad, and having you foot the bill for a day of pampering does sound rather appealing."

He chuckles and then stands, holding out his hands to take hold of hers and pull her up as well.

"You only have two bedrooms," she says as he starts to lead her round the sofa, "And Nate's already in his."

"I imagine you'll cope in my bed for one night," he says, opening the door and gesturing with a sweeping arm for her to enter.

"I don't know about that," she remarks, looking from the bed to her baby bump and back to him.

"Well, I'm not sleeping on the couch," he says, putting stop to that idea because he's simply not.

She releases a laugh. "Right, because _that _thought crossed my mind."

He nudges her forward, fitting her with a look. "Just get in the bed already."

"Gosh, so pushy," Belle pretends to be scandalized as she jumps forward at his touch, her lips twisting in amusement, "You've already knocked me up, Bass, you don't need to prove you're good for it again."

Chuck shakes his head at her and turns to close the door behind them.

"So," she looks to him expectantly with a grin that makes him wonder why he didn't just have his limo take her home. "Which side is yours?"

"All of it," he replies.

She mock scowls at him. "Fine," she rephrases, mouth curving again already, "Which side is mine?"

"You know, I'm beginning to think you would be more suited to the couch," he quips.

"I presume you're going to provide me with something to wear?" she merely responds to that instead.

He arches a brow. "And you'd have me believe that _I'm _the pushy one?"

She flops down on the right side of the bed, _his side_ of the bed, and starts to reach to remove her shoes as he pulls out a set of pajamas for her to wear.

"Would you like the use of the bathroom, or are you going to undress in front of me too?" he asks, and then frowns as he observes her current struggle.

She gets frustrated with the task quickly and extends her leg forward, directing a half-pleading look his way. "Do it for me, would you?"

He raises an eyebrow and she just huffs, looking about as put out as he feels.

"How did you even get them on if you can't take them off?" He makes quick work of the buckles round her ankles, placing her grey wedges against the skirting and turning back to face her, "And why are you wearing such high heels when you're pregnant anyway?"

"I'm tired, leave me alone," she grumbles instead and she pushes herself to her feet, grabbing the pajamas as she rises, from where he'd left them on the comforter as he set about his task. "And they look good."

"So you'll risk tripping over your ankle, breaking your neck and crushing our baby because they _look good_?" he asks; because he's all for fashion and style and _looking good_, but this is a whole different matter.

She scowls at him. "Now you sound like Dom, stop it. I'm perfectly capable of walking in slightly raised shoes," he scoffs at that; he'd wager she averages on five inches of added height every outing, "and _our baby _is totally safe inside me."

"It better be," he mutters, and his eyes hone in on her stomach where it lies.

"Shut up, it is," she nudges him out the way as she moves towards the bathroom, "And while I've no doubt you'd just _love _having the satisfaction of getting me naked in your presence once again, I have this little inkling that this time might be just a tad different from last, so I'll spare you the strip tease."

"How thoughtful of you," he responds though his eyes never stray from her figure as she shimmies across the threshold.

"What can I say?" she calls back, turning and then shutting the double doors between them with a flyaway grin, "I'm all heart."

.

She wakes with a start, curling in on herself like it's instinctive.

"Belle?" he murmurs in the darkness, stirring with the movement.

"I'm ok," she assures him quietly.

"Are you sure?" he asks, because he's not entirely convinced.

"Yeah – "

Her words are cut off with a hiss and he pushes himself up, craning his neck to look over her shoulder.

"No, no, it's fine, it's just – " she starts to refute his concerns as she feels the mattress move around her and then she's apparently struck with an idea.

She reaches back and pulls his arm around her, placing his hand beneath the silk of her nightwear and flat against the soft skin of her midriff.

"You feel that?" she asks, her hand splayed out over his.

Almost immediately the quick, sharp flurry of movement relaxes to a slow wave under his influence.

He nods, all he can do when he finds words have left him.

She sighs contentedly and sinks into the pillows once more, her body unfurling as the restlessness eases from the inside.

"Baby listens to you already."

There's slight amusement in her words, coupled with a twinge of amazement, and he thinks he can make out her smile like an eclipse; overshadowed by his own.

He can still feel the slight shuffle and flow beneath his palm and it's the strangest feeling, because this is his child, he created this being and – this tiny thing that demands attention all hours of the day and night and calms when he's around, when he offers his touch; this is his, his and hers, but… it's really _his_ and – he's going to be a father.

He feels a small jump beneath his fingers; Hell, he's already a father.

And it hits him that this is really happening; this isn't a case of what-if he's playing through his head or a scenario he's thought up to preempt a suitable reactionary outcome. This is real and he's honestly scared shitless.

He's a father. He can see his child move around its little bubble, can feel it as it grows while wrapped up safely in its cocoon.

He's going to be responsible for this little person, and he knows he'll love it and ensure he's everything his own father wasn't to him; but there's a niggling, terrible thought inside him of what is he can't be, and what if he doesn't and what if he isn't?

There's no going back now; this is it and he really, truly, does not want to mess this up.

This is one thing he can't afford to do wrong; he can't lose his child, he won't.

(He lost hers and then he lost her and he thought he'd lost everything, but somehow this came along and now it's all he has, so he can't, he won't, lose this too.)

He stays awake for the rest of the night, while mother and child sleep beneath his protective hand and he's suddenly, utterly terrified of never being a part of their lives.

There's nothing quite like it, no feeling like he's ever experienced before and he wants this; more than anything he wants this.

And he knows, with absolute certainty, complete resolve; this time he's never letting go.

.

"So I was thinking," he announces over the table, as he fills her glass and hands it across to her, "We should probably start looking for a place as soon as possible. It'll be more difficult after the baby's born and I don't know how quickly mothers are supposed to recover, but I can't imagine you'll be up for moving and redecorating right after the birth so that means – "

"Hold on," Belle raises her hand to stop him, puts the tumbler on the table and asks him to clarify, "Chuck, what are you on about?"

"I think we should live together," he tells her quite simply and then takes a swig of his drink. "I've already got the realtor lining up a few properties for us to look at, so as soon as you're ready we can start viewing them and decide which one is most suitable."

Her eyebrows lift as she watches him, silverware caught in her grasp. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he queries, calmly crossing his leg over the other and replacing his own glass on its coaster.

"I don't know, maybe because we can barely breathe the same air for any length of time without annoying one other?" is her first suggestion, followed closely by, "Because we couldn't even agree on the simpler points in the contract over how to raise our baby? Because I already have a place to live and so do you?"

"You live with your brother in an apartment you refuse to acknowledge as your own, and I share the penthouse suite in my hotel with my best friend," he responds, "What part of that sounds like the most conducive environment to raise a child in?"

"Alright," she concedes to his point.

He stands to go and fill the feeding tray as his four-legged-pet pads into the kitchen area, reaching him as he places it on the wooden floor for him to enjoy.

"What's your dog's name?" Belle asks.

"Monkey," he replies, with a faint smile, scratching behind the dog's ears.

"See? I didn't even know that," she remarks.

He finds that somewhat difficult to believe. He wipes his hands on the hand-towel and then drops it back to the counter, making his way back to the table. "So now you're basing your refusal to live with me on the fact you didn't know my dog's name?"

"No, I'm basing my refusal on the fact that we don't know each other," she tells him, and her utensils still in her hands, she punctuates her words with gestures they make, "For all you know I could be allergic to dogs."

"Are you?" he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

"No."

"Well, what's the problem?"

"Oh my word!" Belle cries out, frustrated. "The problem is we don't even know each other, Chuck! And what we do know we find annoying – so in what world could us living together possibly work?"

"Our world," is his simple response.

"Now I know you're mad," she tells him, and stresses her point by stabbing her fork into the grape that lies at the top of her mountainous bowl of fruit.

"Because I want my child's parents to reside under one roof?" he questions, in a tone that suggests she's the one who's not thinking rationally right now.

She fits him an unimpressed look. "Because you want two people who just happen to be sharing this life-changing event to _reside under one roof_. Chuck, we don't know each other."

"And what better way to _get _to know each other than by living together?" he reasons, reaching across and stealing a grape from her collection, popping it into his mouth a second later.

"Look, you have a job that's _supposed _to keep you busy all day and I… well right now, I don't, but that doesn't mean just because I don't seem to have to fit my life into a schedule that I want to spend all my time with you," she tells him, and then realizes how harsh that might've come across and adds, "Sorry."

"And what if I want to spend all my time with you?" he counters, savoring the last taste of the juicy fruit on his tongue.

"Except we both know you don't," she replies, "And anyway what's going to happen if we get with other people?"

He frowns and makes a face at that. "Who are you planning on _getting with_? I thought you didn't know anyone here."

"Thanks for reminding me," she rolls her eyes, "And you know what I mean. I'm still in love with Crispin, though my little jaunt across the Atlantic and insistence on raising my baby with its biological father even after he was all set to play Daddy could be interpreted as evidence to the contrary. And you're still in love with Blair, even though you're not with her because… of… reasons… "

"She married a Prince," he mutters the reminder, "Even when I begged her not to."

"Oh yeah, that's right," she says, her voice deliberately neutral.

"And made a pact with God after I nearly died that she was insistent should keep up apart," he continues.

"So she did," she answers; _that _story was certainly interesting.

"And now she's off playing loft-lover to Humphrey the Brooklynite who I have Serena to thank for bringing into our lives and Lily to thank for ensuring he remained part of them even when I thought my sister had come to her senses and ditched the prick," he says, and his frustration with everything that happens is obvious, although he allows for the point, "Although he did leave me Monkey as a parting gift, so I suppose you can take that however you want to."

"Yeah… so… when your girl finally comes back to her senses and wants to speed off into the sunset with you in your limo, or ride up in the lift together to your penthouse suite, do you really think what that reunion needs is me standing by your front door with our child in my arms waiting to greet you?" She shakes her head, a mildly sympathetic expression on her face. "Just throwing it out there, but I can think of better welcome home parties than that."

"Look, whatever happens in the future, is just that – in the future. All I know is you're having my child and I want to be there when you do," he tells her straightforwardly, and she has to concede that the man makes a good point. Now. "You wanted me to be a part of our kid's life, well I want us to live together to make that possible."

She sighs. "I'm not going to change your mind on this, am I?"

"No."

Belle nods, and Chuck can hear the acceptance in her tone the moment she starts to speak, "Well then I guess all I have to say is that there better be some sort of garden for our child to run around in, because I can't see us having them in the park every day and they need to get the fresh air from somewhere in this city."

He smiles, drawn-out but true, "I think we can just about stretch to that."

.

"Charles," a female voice calls out, the sound of her heels on the floor reaching them before she does. "What's this I hear about you buying an apartment?"

"Lily." He steps around the pool table to greet her. "I didn't realize the news would travel that fast, we haven't even started viewing the prospective properties yet."

The blonde resists the urge to raise her eyebrow at his use of '_we_', instead smiling indulgingly at him; he should know better by now, she's as good as finding out information as he is, though she doesn't divulge how she knew.

"What's wrong with this place?" she asks, gesturing to the space around them.

"It's no longer suitable for what we need," he tells her, choosing his words carefully.

This time the elder does raise her eyebrow, questioning, "We?"

"You must be Chuck's mother," Belle observes with a smile, moving over to his side.

"Stepmother actually," Lily corrects.

The brunette turns to him, confused. "I thought you said she adopted you?"

"She did," he answers, "_after _she married my father."

"And that's different to adopting you _before _marrying him?" Belle inquires, not trying to be cruel by questioning their terms, merely curious.

"We use them interchangeably," Chuck offers by way of explanation, even though he's never really contemplated how he refers to Lily before; everyone who matters already knows what she is to him, what she means to him. There's never been any need to explain it, their relationship. He watches Belle nod, apparently accepting this, and wonders if it's possible she might already understand.

"I'm sorry, and you are?" Lily interrupts, looking to the brunette with an expectant look on her face.

"Right, you don't know me, sorry, I'm Mirabel," she strikes out a hand, that easy smile on her face once more, "Mira. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bass."

"It's Humphrey now, actually." The elder takes the proffered hand, society smile in place. "And you know my son how exactly?"

"We met in Maui," is the easy response, "I was there on holiday with my brother when Chuck and Nate stopped by on their flying visit before moving on to LA."

"I see," Lily intones, "So this you returning the favor with a short visit of your own, is it?"

"Not exactly," Belle utters and then takes a deliberate step back, turning to tell him, "I did Nate and Serena; your Mum's all yours."

"Lily," he strides forward, his palms sliding together as he attempts to find the words that will best describe what's going on.

"Oh, Charles," the blonde speaks for him; apparently already well aware of what he's about to say, though she looks at him almost pleadingly to refute her thoughts, "Tell me you didn't."

"He did," a certain brunette answers for him, nodding.

He shoots her a look. "I thought you were staying out of this one?"

"I'm sorry!" She shrugs, looking mildly apologetic. "I couldn't help it."

Chuck shakes his head at her, and then turns back to the Lily, taking a breath and then releasing in one go: "Belle's pregnant. It's mine."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Belle pipes up, and then at his look shirks away, hands held up in defense. "Right, sorry, staying out of it."

"Are you sure?" Lily questions, "I mean, after everything that's happened, are you certain it's yours?" She looks to the younger as she adds tightly, "Nothing against you personally, you understand, it's just sometimes very easy to get so wrapped up in what someone else is telling you that you don't bother to fully corroborate what they're saying."

The brunette just waves her off; they've moved on from those early instances of distrust and skepticism, with the point of the day being the fact they're now going to _live _together. Dear God. "Oh, no bother, _totally understand_. Plus, I've had it all already. This is nothing new."

"We had a paternity test done and I also had the results compared with those from the amniocentesis that Belle got back home," he informs the blonde. "The baby's definitely mine, Lily."

"You had amnio done as well as a paternity test?" Lily asks of the younger, because that's more than she would've asked for; at least at this stage.

"It was to test for CF since my ex and I are both carriers," Belle explains, "We wanted to be at least a little prepared, although there was a 25% chance the baby would be completely clear of it. Except even when the doctor told me that was the case, something just didn't sit right so he tested for the paternity and I realized the reason the baby was completely clear of CF was because Crispin wasn't the biological father, so that meant it had to be Chuck, and now here we are."

"Indeed," the blonde murmurs.

Nobody speaks for the longest moment and then Lily steps forward and engulfs Chuck in a hug.

"Oh Charles," the elder bemoans, sending him a look as she pulls away, "I can't believe you're making me a grandmother at this age."

He smiles despite himself, and remarks, "Serena's won't forgive me for letting her miss this."

"Serena?" the blonde questions, raising an eyebrow and looking at him expectantly, "She _knew_, and she didn't tell me? She's known _all this time_ yet you're only telling me _now_?"

"That would be my fault," Belle owns up to that one, complete with raised hand, as she looks somewhat bashful at the memory of how she'd gone about it. "I sort of dropped the bombshell on her and Nate pretty much right after I'd done the same to Chuck."

She looks apologetically over at him and then turns back to other woman with a small, but genuine smile.

"He wanted to make sure we went about it the right way with you," and then there's that rueful look on the brunette's features, "Although I suppose I sort of ruined that one too. Sorry."

"Didn't want me having a heart attack on top of everything else when I walked in on you, is that it?" Lily quips a beat later.

Belle nearly chokes, but Chuck just smiles, near laughing.

"It's not like that," he reassures her easily, "We're not together."

"Oh God no!" is the exclamation from the brunette by his side and he can't decide whether to roll his eyes at her dramatics or scowl at her immediate reaction.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed – " Lily gestures between the two, looking pointedly at Belle's attire.

" – because I'm too lazy to change into my own clothes from his that means we're sleeping together?" Belle surmises. "No. Once was quite enough, thank you very much."

Chuck clears his throat at her count, which is horribly off by anyone's standards nevermind his, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"_Once_ was most definitely enough," she repeats, with added emphasis on the first word.

He dips his head as his lips curve in his amusement.

"I was just tired and Chuck offered to let me stay here for the night in a purely platonic, I'm-exhausted-from-his-spawn-stealing-all-my-energy kind of way," Belle explains. "Nothing else. I can assure you."

"Right," Lily accepts with a smile. "Of course."

"What can I say? Chivalry isn't quite dead after all," he remarks, looking pleased with himself. "And I'm enjoying taking part in its revival."

The blonde sends him a look, like she knows he's only saying it to get a reaction and he really shouldn't do such things; for all of their sakes.

Case in point, Belle responds with, "It would've been more chivalrous of you had you not gotten me pregnant in the first place, but I suppose a girl can't have everything, can she?"

"No, she can't," he returns, with a tight smile that's just as mockingly sweet, "Not when she's already getting a home and monthly child support payments coming her way."

"Hey!" the brunette disputes his phrasing, not to mention his tone, "I never asked you for that, in fact _you _were the one so keen on moving in together. _I'm _quite happy as we are. Living _separate _lives."

"Well, since _I'm_ the one with all the money, _I_ get to decide where our child lives," is his smarmy retort.

She rolls her eyes, muttering through clenched teeth, "You and your bloody money."

There's not as much malice in the statement as there had been previously, when she'd actually been adamant he was trying to buy her, and admittedly that was sort of exactly what he had been trying to do. Now it's more mild frustration and grudging acceptance, and she responds to it like he's a dog with a bone that he's never going to let go of.

"And on that note," he turns to direct to the blonde, "It's a townhouse, Lily, not an apartment."

"Naturally," the elder comments, humoring him.

"Wait, what?" Belle takes that moment to question.

"You said it had to have a garden," Chuck replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and the answer to any and all of what she's about to say.

"Yeah, thinking you'd jus' go for something with a terrace on the roof like you have here," the brunette tells him, eyeing him like she had earlier when this topic had first been brought up, and she was sure he'd become even more deranged overnight, "Not a full-blown back yard with grass and a patio or whatever."

"You said garden, I'm going for a garden," is his simple response to that, throwing his arms up in the air like he's asking what more he can do here. "Townhouses have gardens."

"I really don't want to know how much this is costing, do I?" Belle deduces from that, grimacing slightly.

"I thought you wanted this?" is his answer to that, because if they've been over it once, they've been over it a thousand times; money is not an issue for him, its overabundance is just part of his life.

"What part of our conversation ever gave you that impression?" she asks, shaking her head at him. "I mean, seriously? Enlighten me, please."

"Now you're being ungrateful," he tells her, unimpressed.

"And you're being unreasonable," she snaps back, face mirroring his.

"You said you wanted a garden so our kid would have somewhere to play in the fresh air without having to go to the park all the time," he repeats, because she'd said exactly that and all he's doing is giving it to her; where is the problem here? "A townhouse is the most sensible option," he reasons, because it is, not to mention: "I'm not about to risk their life by having them run around on a roof twenty storeys in the air. That's just asking for them to try and play Superman."

"Maybe they'd be more like Icarus and try and reach the sun," Belle offers in suggestion, "Since they'd be so flipping high up in the sky in one of your penthouse roof gardens."

Lily watches the pair with vested interest. They make for an odd, yet entertaining, coupling; though she doubts that's their intention.

"So, we're agreed on the townhouse with the garden then, yes?" Chuck concludes smugly.

Belle heaves a sigh, relenting, "Fine, since you've clearly put so much thought into this, we'll go for the townhouse with the garden."

He smirks, triumphant. "Not that you were getting much choice in the matter."

"No, I got that," she remarks, having deduced as much early on, humoring him with a smile.

Lily clear her throat when she senses a gap in their exchange with interest, "Charles, can I speak with you a minute?"

"Of course," he responds easily, instantly, directing to the brunette like his upbringing instills, "Excuse us."

"Sure," Belle returns, not bothered. "I should go make myself presentable anyway."

"Yes, you have been lounging around in my pajamas for the better part of the day now," he comments, casting a glance over her attire, chastising, "That's hardly the way to behavior when we have guests visiting."

"I see we're back to trading barbs," she says to that, flashing him a humorless smile. "I'm so glad we've managed to attain a sense of normalcy throughout all this."

He chuckles and calls over, "I had Arthur collect some clothes from your apartment."

"You mean you didn't just buy me some new ones?" she returns, mock hurt and surprise displayed across her face, as she pouts back at him, "That's really disappointing, Chuck. And here I thought you were going to be generous with your cash."

He shakes his head at her, sending an eye roll her way. "Go get ready."

Her laughter is the gift she leaves them with as she moves to do just that.

.

"Charles, what's this really about?" Lily inquires when it's just the two of them alone in the space.

"What do you mean?" he asks evenly, turning slowly to face her.

"Well, I can see that girl in there is committed to having you as part of your child's life, and yet she's not pushing for you two to live together," she observes, and then poses the question she really wants the answer to, "So, why are you?"

"I felt it would be the best environment for our child," he replies, like this is what he's been going over in his head. It's not that it's not the truth; it's just not the whole truth.

"Is that so?" she queries, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

He crinkles his brow, his words affected in the same manner, "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"It's not," she tells him, because it's not; indeed it's a very _Charles _thing to do. A slow smile turns her mouth, "But I know my son."

He purses his lips, stays silent for the moment and that's how she knows she's right.

"What else is going on here, Charles?" Lily beseeches him softly, "Why do you want to live with her so badly?"

"I – " he starts and then stops himself just as quickly.

"Are you afraid she's going to leave? Is that what this is?" she asks, eyebrows only lifting so far as the questions leave her tongue, "Your way of ensuring she'll commit to letting you be a part of your child's life?"

"No, I know she won't, and she will let me be a part of it, I – " he replies almost flippantly, and then breathes out a short laugh, "Even without the contract I'm pretty sure she's not going anywhere, that I'm stuck with her now."

Lily nods; understands that, could've understood the others. "Then what's the problem?"

"I just don't want to miss out on anything," he finally admits.

When he turns his head to look at her, emotion swims in his eyes and she can hear the belief in his words; everything within him is telling him this is how he ensures he's not like Bart, that this is how he can be there for his child.

"My father was never there for me – "

Lily opens her mouth to refute this claim, because she lived that life too and just because you aren't there, doesn't mean you don't care; but he continues before she can even get a well-formed word out.

"He might've known what was going on, but he was never really _there _for any of it," he refines his point, because _this_ is what he means: if he's there, there's no question over whether he cares or not and he will, he does; she doesn't need to be looking into the eyes of her own son to know that this man before her is determined to love his child. "I don't want that for mine. I want to be there, I want to know what's going on; I want them to know that I'm there and I know what's going on. I want my child to know me."

"But they will," she assures him; because a world in which the offspring of _Chuck Bass_ is unaware of their father's presence, his prowess, is not one she can even imagine; especially not when she tries to couple the thought with the look on his face as he stands before her now; "You don't need to set up home with their mother to know your child, Charles."

"I know," he answers, exhaling; and she believes him.

Except this is when she realizes that there's more to this. It's not just what he deems a proactive move that will cancel out the possibility of reenacting many of the instances he lived through, or didn't as the case may be, with his own father. It's a move that should both safeguard and promote the reoccurrence of whatever it is that's happened to have him so motivated.

"But – last night," he divulges, takes a breath, licks his lips, "Last night the baby was moving around and it kicked Belle so hard it woke her up – and she – " he frowns as he recalls the moment, but it's not disapproval, rather he's still trying to comprehend what transpired, " – she reached over and took my hand and placed it on her stomach and I felt it," his whole face is alight, amazement and marvel and pride; and in that instant he's never looked quite so remarkable, she's never seen such an incredible sight; "I felt it kick, I felt my baby move beneath my palm."

"Oh Charles," she breathes out because her son, her boy, is so beautiful as he relives the moment, her emotions manifest as one to try and let her experience it with him.

"I know I won't be there for all of it, last night was different, whether we live together or not, we're not going to be sharing a bed, we're not together… and yet we are; and if I can help it, if I can be there for some of it, surely that's better than nothing?"

"You really want this, don't you?" Lily deduces with a soft smile.

"I really do," he confirms, an admission in itself.

"Then, of course, I'm here for you, Charles," she assures him, stepping towards him and grasping him by the shoulders, cupping his face, as she affirms, "Whatever you need."

"Thank you, Lily," he says, the corners of his mouth lifting, "That means a lot."

"I mean it," she reinstates her promise, not letting go of the vow she's making to her son, "Anything."

He nods and permits his own response to her embrace then, smiling into the curve of her shoulder.

"Well, I'd appreciate you not telling Rufus about this just yet," he manages when they pull apart, "Or at the very least, ask him to refrain from telling his son, who'll no doubt jump at the chance to tell Blair and – "

"You've not told Blair yet?" she asks, and in her confusion she unintentionally holds him at arm's length.

"No, and I have no intentions of doing so until everything is settled with Belle," he responds, in a tone that tells her he doesn't see how anyone can question such logic and he has no intentions of changing his mind even if they do.

She can't help herself. "Charles, don't you think it would be better – "

She reaches for him, but he deftly twists out if her grasp.

"I think it would be better if I didn't have to deal with a Waldorf inquisition right now," he tells her and it comes out as something close to a sneer, so she imagines this has been a hot topic already; apparently he's had enough of considering Blair over anyone else, at least for the immediate time being, "So I plan to avoid it as long as humanly possible."

"You know she's going to find out," Lily reasons with him in a gentler tone.

"Naturally," is Chuck's reply, aiming for nonchalance because it's the truth, but falling into the trap of knowledge from memory instead, "It's Blair."

"Well, so long as you realize the fallout will likely be worse if she has to hear it from someone other than you," she warns, because if living here has taught them anything it's that secrets will always come out and when they do the people you've been trying to protect all along are usually the last to offer forgiveness.

"She's currently shacked up in Brooklyn with your husband's son, Lily; I can't imagine how my current situation will in any way derail that. If anything, it'll most likely just push her further into his arms when she hears of how I ruined another girl's life, and she realizes she was lucky to get away when she did."

"Is that what Mirabel says you did?" she asks; because only a moment ago he was talking so hopefully about his life with his child, _she _doesn't want to be the one to derail that by suddenly sending him into a pit of self-loathing.

"Mira," he insists, says in quieter voice, "Only her Mom called her by her full name, she just can't get rid of the habit on introduction. And no," his lips twist ruefully, "Well, only when I piss her off, which is fairly often, so I suppose, the answer is yes."

"Charles, she'd be lucky to have you," is her answer to that and there's no doubt she's referring to Blair now. "And you should know; I'll always be rooting for my son, so long as whomever he wants to be with makes him happy."

"She's with Dan, right now," he says, like he's been saying it repeatedly in the hope that maybe one of these times it'll be enough for it to make sense, except it doesn't; it won't.

Lily nods. "I know."

"And I'm having a baby with someone else," he says, and there's marvel in his voice because he still can't quite believe it; this is happening to him and he doesn't just want it, he's actively seeking it out.

"I know," she repeats in that same soft, but steady tone.

He takes a step back and drops to the seat, lifts his hands to his face and exhales between them.

"I don't know what to do," he confesses with a shake of the head, and it never fails to amaze her how honest he can be; and how his words can travel the length of time and space so easily even when the admission is tied so tightly to the weight of his soul.

"Yes you do," she insists, placing herself right alongside him and taking his hand decisively in hers.

He turns to look up at her and she smiles, nods, determined.

"You're going to do what you said you would. You're going to be there for your child, and you're going to concentrate on being the best father that I know you can be," she tells him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, her eyes shining, "And your family is going to be there for you. Every step of the way."

He'd once made a promise to be there for her, this is hers to him; and more than anything she's determined to see this through.

"You do that, and those that love you will be right there alongside you," she assures him, "Helping to shape your future."

"Thank you, Lily."

"Anytime, Charles."

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>I feel sorta bad, like I'm playing the role of one of the GG Writers and throwing every possible obstacle at CB to keep them apart. Rest assured, there can and will be resolutions lol and I know I said there would be Blair in this chap, but I got carried away with the Lily inclusion (<em>really <em>carried away given the final length of this chap). Blair is DEF in the next one though, which I'll try have up tonight, and there's even CB interaction! Wahay lol

Thanks for reading, your thoughts are always appreciated :)  
>Steph<br>xxx


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

.

"_There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.__"  
><em>_**Neil Gaiman**_

.

"So we're all in agreement then?" Serena concludes, looking at the other two occupants at the table.

"That it's a _horrible _idea for my sister to move in with your brother?" Dom asks, eyebrows raised, nodding, "Oh yeah, we're in agreement."

"You're in agreement about what?" Mira's voice travels through the space followed by the sound of the front door slamming behind her.

The elder groans and rolls his eyes; his sister has the worst timing of anyone he's ever known. The blonde looks to both males seated in front of her, silently demanding they do something because she's definitely not about to respond.

The brunette walks into the space, flicking through the mail her brother left by the entrance for her.

"Oh hi," Mira greets them on sight, smiling as she takes stock of their presence.

"Serena and Nate just came by for a flying visit, 'make sure I was coping on my own now my baby sister's abandoned me for their best friend," Dom tells her with a pointed look.

"I haven't _abandoned_ you for him; that was one night, I've been at the hotel every other," the younger replies, glancing up at him from the contents of the various envelopes in her hand. "And besides, if you're going to insist on inviting farm animals over, I'm going to vacate the premises. You know this, it's nothing new."

She shoots a look to the others at that as they sit silently watching the exchange between the siblings.

"I'm not talking about you," the brunette excuses quickly.

Nate clears his throat; clearly there are issues here they do not need to get involved in, but he can't resist replying, "Never thought you were."

Mira gifts him with a smile and then her eyebrows lift and she nods, gesturing to each of them in turn, "So… what's this little meeting actually about?"

Serena pointedly keeps her mouth shut, sending a quick look to her left to ensure Nate does the same. Dom just sighs, however, and responds, "Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks you should be committed for even considering moving in with Chuck."

"You make it sound like it was my idea," she accuses the elder and then shrugs, "I'm just going along with it."

"Exactly," her brother notes, "Which makes you just as certifiable as him in my book."

"Look, it's nothing against you or Chuck personally," Nate speaks up then. "It's just… the two of you together."

"We know he wants to be there for you and the baby, but he's still in love with Blair," Serena joins in, sending the younger a sympathetic look like this is really news to her or her secret dreams of getting it together with Chuck in the future have now been thoroughly dashed, "And honestly I can't see how it's going to work. They always end up back with one another and if you two are living together… "

"For the record," Mira points out, finger piercing the air as she makes her argument known, "That was one of my main points against the idea."

"Well, if you know that then why are you agreeing to it?" the blonde questions, looking at the other girl with an expression of disbelief; like possessing the knowledge alone should be enough to not only make her act, but also make him change his mind. Yeah, it really doesn't work like that.

"Because he's the father of my kid! And he's so bloody-minded he won't take no for an answer!" the brunette replies, frustrated with being blamed for something that's _really _not her doing; _he's _the one who's pushing for this, not her. "Sure, I have my doubts about it, don't even know if we'll last a month nevermind anything longer, but he's determined to do this and so far nothing I – or _your mother_ – have had to say has done anything to change that."

"That's because my Mom's always had a soft spot for him and can't seem to see past it half the time," Serena grumbles; because _of course _Lily would choose _this _to get on board with out of everything that's going on.

Mira smiles at that. She hasn't seen how the elder is with her other children, but she's seen how Lily is with Chuck; she mildly wonders if he's always been the favorite.

"Look, all I want is for him to be there for our baby," she tells them plainly, rolling her shoulders as she concedes, "If this is what he feels we have to do for that to happen, then I'm going to go with it."

"So what you're saying is that it's really down to us to change Chuck's mind, because you're not going to try anymore?" Serena surmises, clearly unimpressed.

For her part, Mira looks mildly apologetic as she responds, "Basically, yeah." And then her lips split horizontally, lines of perfect teeth exposed, sucking in a breath as she advises, "I'd make quick work of it though, if I was you."

"Why?" the blonde asks, drawing out the word although she already knows she won't like the answer.

"Because Chuck's already pretty much settled on the place we looked at the other day and we're about to go for another viewing," the brunette explains, her words coming in quick bursts, "And I'm almost certain he's going to buy it as soon as possible."

Dom rolls his head to the side and sends his sister a look; she couldn't have mentioned this earlier?

Mira shrugs meekly, offering the consolation, "Sorry."

When the door shuts again minutes later and the trio is left alone, Nate can only voice what he imagines they're all thinking, "We are so screwed."

.

"So?" Chuck asks of her as he watches her twirl around in the open space, neck craned backwards as she stares up through the skylight, "What do you think?"

"It's amazing," Belle agrees with his assessment, turning to look at him with the words, the smile stretched high on her cheeks.

"And the garden?" he prompts, with a knowing smirk.

Her expression doesn't waver as she praises his choice, "The best we've seen."

"So we're in agreement," he says at that, nodding, his eyes on hers.

The words echo in her mind, her brother's mixed with his, and suddenly she's not so sure anymore, and apparently it shows because he's frowning now, stepping forward and holding out his hand towards her.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concerned.

"Chuck, maybe this isn't the best idea," she says, beseeching, and when his eyes start to scrutinize her she doesn't even bother trying to return his gaze, instead looking away; out the patio doors that lead to the patch of green she thought would remain elusive enough that it would never come to this. It's not that she doesn't want it, how could she not? And it's not that it isn't wonderful, it's perfect. It's just the circumstances, they are less than ideal, and as much as she might be content to simply go with the flow of it all, she doesn't want to be responsible for stealing part of his future and replacing it with one she's not entirely sold on either.

"Look, I know you've had reservations, but I thought we'd reached an understanding," he says, understandably, because it had seemed like that, hadn't it?

"We had, but now… " she sighs, bites her lip, meets his eyes once more and tells him directly, "Chuck, we've avoided talking about it for long enough, but we really need to. You and Blair – "

"Are no longer together," he interjects, succinct. "She's currently off enjoying a life with someone else and I'm committed to raising this baby with you, so what's the problem?"

"Fine!" Belle exclaims, throwing up her hands, because if he's determined not to make this about his former relationship, then she'll make it about hers. "I'm still in love with someone else; I still want to _be _with someone else. Now I don't know if that's ever going to happen because of what transpired between us, but I know it's still what I want; that if the opportunity arose for us to be together tomorrow I'd reach for it with open arms. I want Crispin in my life – in our baby's life."

"He's not the father," Chuck bites out at that, and she can see the hurt in his eyes, can see what he's thinking: that this will be how she takes his child from him. Only it's not what she means, and she wouldn't, she couldn't. After all, if her intention was for Crispin to be the only father her child knew, she never would have told Chuck in the first place.

"But I still love him," she says, resolute, because this is what he needs to understand, needs to realize, so that if (God-willing, _when_) it happens, he can learn to accept it, "And I want him to be part of my life; I want him to be part of my child's – as a step-father, an uncle, even just as a friend, I don't care, I just know that I want him in it, Chuck."

He works his jaw, stays silent and she's worried it's already starting to eat away at him; this possibility of another.

"Now tell me you don't want the same with Blair," she demands, because this is what she's trying to get at; this is what he needs to face.

"Blair's – "

"With someone else," she parrots back at him, "Yes, I know. You're not together and right now you're acting like you never will be again, but after everything you've told me, after everything you've been through together," she exhales, looking at him like she can't believe he's being this blind to the future, this closed off to the possibility of another chance, "Serena's right; you two always end up back together and when that happens, are you honestly telling me you'd shut Blair out of your child's life?"

"_If_ Blair and I ever get back together it certainly won't be anytime soon," he tells her and his tone is cold, his words sharp and to the point, "You can't expect me not to act in the best interests of our child now because of something that may or may not happen in the undetermined future."

"That's not what I'm saying," she replies, with a tired sigh.

She thinks he already knows what she means and he's just refusing to listen because he's stubborn like that, because he's hurting and doesn't want to hear what she has to say because he knows she's right. She can't blame him for acting this way, but she also can't just stand by while he idly plays the blind-man to something that is so obviously going to blow up in his face. If he's going to insist she remain such a constant, close presence by his side, he's going to have to deal with it; because she is not going to be made to suffer just because he has avoidance tendencies.

"Look, I know you don't want to get your hopes up, holding off for something that might never happen, but seriously, history shows the odds always seems to play in your favor so I'm guessing there's a pretty good chance they will again and I just – " she cuts herself off, takes a breath, closes her eyes and opens them and seeks his out again to tell him simply, "I don't want you thinking we have to live together to be part of our child's life and then it complicates things even more with you and Blair later on because you don't want to move out of our place or move in with her for fear of losing that connection."

He stays silent, and she can't decide if that's a good or a bad sign. He's still in denial, and she gets it, she does; because it _hurts _not being with the one you love, but what he's doing, sure it seems like a good idea now, but when the dust settles and the wrongs of the world are righted again, then where will they be?

"Chuck, I know you want to be part of our kid's life, I want you to be too, we're pretty set on that," Belle says, an assurance, "Whether we live together or not doesn't change the fact you're going to be there to see our child grow up."

It takes him the longest time to reply and he's watching closely her throughout. When he finally does, his voice is unwavering, his eyes hard and determined, jaw tight as he skewers the air between them with his words, "I'm buying this house for us."

Apparently she should've trusted her instincts. Of course, he wouldn't be swayed now; of course talking about _Blair_, of _all_ things, would only make him more determined to settle what's happening with them now rather than leave anything in their future up to chance.

"I think it's a mistake," Belle tells him honestly: one she only hopes he won't regret in the days to come; one she only prays she won't suffer for being a part of.

"Well, some could say the same about our child," Chuck sneers in response, "But that doesn't mean I agree."

.

Nate calls to pass on what Mira told Dom: that Chuck is more determined than ever to buy the house, for them to live in it together. Apparently the brunette is upset, which surprises the blonde given the younger's earlier attitude, raving about how Chuck needs to deal with whatever is or isn't happening with him and Blair because it isn't healthy to just pretend like it's not happening and that everything's ok, when it quite clearly isn't.

"So they're having another _off_ phase, then?" Serena surmises.

Nate sighs. "So it would seem."

"Great," she voices, shaking her head at the thought, "And they really think they'll be able to last with just the two of them in that house together?"

"Nah, apparently Mira came around to what you'd been saying while she and Chuck were at the viewing," he responds, "Told him they needed to talk about Blair, that what he's doing now could get in the way of what's sure to happen with her in the future. And there's no reason for it because he can still be part of the kid's life even if they're not living together."

"He didn't go for it?" she makes an educated guess; after all, this is her brother they're talking about, and he's never exactly been one for rational thought where Blair is concerned. Love clouds the mind as it claims possession over the heart.

"He went and told the realtor to make the offer, right there and then," Nate informs her, in a tone that's about as resigned and unsurprised as her following one.

"Of course he did." She sighs, because nothing's ever easy or straightforward with Chuck.

"I suppose we can't really blame Mira for bringing up Blair," he says then, and he's right; but that doesn't make it any better. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Later would've been preferable," she comments, because it would've, "But I suppose you're right."

He lets out a short chuckle at her admission, savoring the moment and her lips curve at the edges.

"I'm not saying he should pine over her or make sure there's always a place for her in everything he does _just in case_," Serena tells him, frustrated with her brother, with herself, with everything that's happened these past few months, "but I can't help feeling like this is his way of trying to actively stop Blair from being part of his life; like he's intentionally sabotaging any chance for a future with her because he can't stand the fact she's left him for someone else, _again_."

She can't really blame him; God knows how much it pains her to see the two of them together, but Chuck's always been that bit better at destroying himself and his chances than she has.

"Well, you know Chuck," Nate responds, "If there's a crack showing, stamp on it until it shatters or completely breaks in two."

"I know," she says, because she does, except she also knows what happens after; "But you know what's going to happen, Nate. They _always _end up back together, no matter how crazy the lead-up or how many obstacles in their way. The end of the road for them will always be each other."

"I know," he agrees, exhaling with the words, "He's never going to stop loving her."

"And as much as she may be acting like a different person now, I know my best friend," Serena adds, "She's always going to love him."

"Maybe it's a good thing Mira's pro-Chuck-and-Blair," he muses, tries to sell her on the idea that it could work out easier, better, than all the other times. She's not so sure.

"Yeah, but they're having a _baby _together, Nate," she reminds him, because this is like nothing any of them have ever really faced before, "And they're going to live together."

"It'll work itself out, Serena," he assures her, and he sounds like he really believes it.

"I know," she agrees, has to admit, because as impossible as it always seems, eventually it always does, "I just don't want him to have to choose one life or the other."

"He won't have to," he tries to soothe her worries, again so very sure.

"You say that now," is her response, skepticism clear; like she plans to have an 'I told you so' up her sleeve for when the time comes, even if she won't enjoy using it.

"Mira's a big girl, she knew what she was getting into, and besides she signed the contract; even if she wanted to, she couldn't keep Chuck from his kid," he tells her, "And he and Blair will manage, like they always have. They'll find a way."

"You have a lot of faith for someone who can't predict the future," she remarks, gnawing at her lower lip.

"Well I have years of history on my side," he reminds her and then adds, "Plus, my eternally optimistic sidekick's out sick at the moment so I'm working for two."

She cracks a smile, knows he means her. "Sorry, I'll try harder."

He laughs, instantly pleased. "Good! I don't know how long I can last without you by my side."

Serena smiles, wider and brighter then, teasing, "I'll hurry back."

"I'll be waiting," Nate promises; his small laugh of contentment the last thing she hears before the dial tone.

When she hangs up, she flops back against her pillows with a sigh, worn out by the recent events.

"You and Nate getting cosy again?" a voice inquires and she springs upwards to find her best friend standing in her doorway with her eyebrow arched and an amused look on her face.

"How did you know that was Nate on the phone?" she asks, inwardly panicking over how much the brunette heard.

"Oh please," Blair rolls her eyes with the chastisement, "You're my best friend and I've known you both practically your whole lives. You think I can't tell who the source of all the smiles and laughter is? Honestly, you're transparent when it comes to one another, S."

"Well, it's easier than trying to keep secrets," Serena replies, before realizing the implications that could amount from her words.

As if by way of showing her, Blair's expression falters before she quickly replaces it with a neutral one; one that doesn't show her joy at being around her best friend again, but does hide any of the hurt that might threaten to tear them apart.

"Oh, I didn't mean – "

"It's fine, S," the brunette cuts her off, shaking her head, "I guess I can't expect us to go back to normal right away."

"No," Serena says quietly, agreeing with the words even if her reasoning differs.

"However, I did think we were on the right track," Blair tells her, "But you've been so distant lately. I swear I've hardly seen you around here and I've been looking."

She cracks a weary smile as the brunette tries to lighten the mood again. "I'm sorry, B, I haven't been avoiding you, honest." She sighs, shaking her head at the thoughts currently trying to absorb everything else, "I've just been so preoccupied with everything that's been going on with Mira and – "

"Who's Mira?" the brunette asks at that, in the same sentence as, "And what's been going on?"

"What do you mean who's Mira?" Serena replies, distractedly scouting out her phone charger because the number of incoming and outgoing calls and texts, all for the purpose of trying to sort out the current crisis, has sapped the energy from her phone as well as her. "She's Chuck's – "

She suddenly becomes aware of what she's saying and to whom, when she feels Blair's eyes hone in on her, cool lilt breaking through the overly innocent tone that wasn't quite forceful enough, "She's Chuck's _what_, Serena?"

"His new friend," the blonde replies, lifting her head and twisting her body back round to face the other, phone charger immediately forgotten.

It was pretty much what she was going to say in the first place, because honestly there's nothing else _to_call her. Mother of his child sounds too weird, especially since they're so young and even she can tell the girl means more to them all than just as the host for Chuck's next generation. Baby mama is such a _Nate _thing to say, though she cracks it out on occasion followed swiftly by a fit of the giggles when she sees their faces. She's their friend, and it fits.

Blair snorts in a way that always looks so unnatural on her when she's dressed so prim and proper, face made up and hair pulled back in an elaborate updo. "Is that what he's calling them these days?"

Serena frowns. "It's not like that B. They met in Hawaii during the summer."

"Oh, so it's someone trying their hands at seconds, is it?" the brunette raises an eyebrow, her skepticism at whatever she imagines to be the longevity of this girl she's never heard of in relation to her ex notably diminishing with every passing moment.

"You've got it all wrong, B," she tells her best friend breezily, not at all bothered about putting her the brunette's mind at ease (the fact she feels the need to do so even though Blair's with Dan does not escape her), "She's not interested in him that way. In fact, I think they just annoy each other most of the time," she rolls her eyes as the thought of the day push back to the forefront of her mind and she comments flippantly, "I swear they have an argument like every day, she's always storming out of the place – " and then she indulges the other with a mischievous grin, " – I've learnt that playing the peacekeeper can be fun during some of these times, if only so as to gain valuable intel on Chuck that I can use at a later date."

"My how we've corrupted you, S," Blair remarks with a proud smile.

Serena giggles under the praise, reveling in the moment, and concentrating on those more fun (if somewhat devious) moments that can come out of her brother's arguments with Mira.

She's so consumed with her own thoughts, she doesn't notice when the smile drops from her best friend's face, doesn't feel the shift in the atmosphere that holds them until she hears the question, "Wait a minute, is this girl a brunette, slightly shorter than me and from what little I've seen, has an semi-decent wardrobe although it's clearly lower class?"

And that's when the blonde starts to grow uneasy. "Umm…"

She shouldn't have been worried about the last line; it's the next demand for an answer that bears worse consequences. "Is she _pregnant_, Serena?"

She's really busted now, because seriously, how is she supposed to lie about that?

"… Yes," the blonde says softly, finally.

Blair's face is a picture of disbelief, anger and hurt all at once, but Serena barely has a chance to process that before the words fly out of her best friend's mouth, "Oh My God! She's got a Basstard inside her!"

"Blair!" Serena exclaims, outraged and suddenly feeling more than a little protective, "It's not a bastard, _Chuck's _the father!"

That's when the world comes crashing down; because she knows from this moment on, nothing will ever be the same for any of them again.

And all Serena can think is: _Shit_, because she shouldn't have said that and they are going to be _so _mad and there's absolutely nothing she can do to fix it.

.

His phone has been ringing non-stop, but he really has no desire to listen to more of his sister or his best friend as they try to convince him to retract the offer on the house. He takes great pleasure in switching it to silent and watching their pleas to be heard go unanswered.

The elevator sounds and he heaves a sigh, pushing himself to his feet and moving towards who he imagines to be one of two of its possible occupants in a preemptive strike to stop them in their tracks before they can get a solid footing against him.

"I know you think I should listen to what you have to say, but – "

His words are cut off by the sight of a familiar brunette who comes striding towards him with a face like thunder.

He stops right where he is, concentrating on her display of anger, when it hits him, quite literally, as she smacks him hard with her yellow purse (which matches the pinstripes of his shirt and the pocket square that goes askew under her hand) and screeches, "You're having a baby!"

He twists away from her wrath, smoothing down his attire and trying to stop the hammering of his heart as he bites out, "Hello to you too, Blair."

"I can't believe you knocked up some floozy who's probably only after your money anyway and now you've fallen for her low-rent scheme – didn't you learn anything before?" She questions, enraged; and this is all so confusing that he takes a moment to answer; because who is she to be so annoyed? Who is she to question what he is doing? She's not part of his life anymore; she has no right to say such things, to _feel _anything. She made sure of that, it was her choice.

"She's not some floozy, she's not after my money and I did," he says calmly, then softer, "I have."

His tone couldn't be further from what he's feeling right now, and he's grateful for the years of putting up a façade to the masses, even in private. He's reeling and all he knows to do is lash out, because he _loves _her, even after everything, and she's trivializing it; turning up here unannounced after she claimed she didn't feel the same way, acting like a jealous lover, pretending she has some vested interest in his life when she was the one to toss him aside.

"So what? You're _in love _with her, is that it?" she says the term like it physically pains her, though he refuses to believe that since she made it quite clear that she's not in love with him, that that feeling was reserved for him alone, that she'd moved on.

"No, Blair, I'm not in love with her. Unlike some people I can't simply jump from being in love with one person one week to another the next, whenever it takes my fancy that I might feel like a change."

He sneers the words, but he knows they won't lose their meaning on his tongue; it's obvious by now how much emphasis he puts on them, the weight they carry.

"And before you bring up Eva and Raina or whoever else, I should remind you _affection _is infinitely less demanding on the heart than an all-consuming love."

"We've been over this – "

"And I'm not asking for a replay, I was merely stating a simple fact," he tells her, and his tone is even, his words deliberate; he won't show her any weakness, he won't let her take anymore from him than he's already given, "I'm not in love with Belle. I care for her, she's carrying my child, but what that has to do with you is beyond me."

"What that has to do with me?" she echoes, astounded. "Chuck, since when have I ever not cared about you? About what's going on in your life?"

"I think high-tailing it across the _Brooklyn bridge_ right after telling me you no longer love me sort of negates anything you have to say on the matter of _caring _about me," is his retort, lip curling as he inhales, tries not to relive the memory.

"Just because I'm with Dan now doesn't change the fact that I care about you, Chuck," she says, resolute. "I meant it when I said that I'd always love you."

"Just not enough, right, B?" he says tightly, almost mockingly.

She narrows her eyes, lips pursed, and then replies just as forcefully, "Right."

"Well then forgive me for being a little too preoccupied with the reality of impending fatherhood that was thrust upon me not long ago, to make it across said bridge to inform you and Humphrey of the happy news."

She watches him, scrutinizing every part of his face with those impossibly deep brown eyes of hers and he stares right back at her, concentrating on her lips, painted pale peach to match the frilled sleeves around her elbows lest he drown anywhere else.

"I guess I should say congratulations then," she answers stiffly, shifting from one heel clad foot to the other, "You've always wanted a family."

"I had one," he says before he can stop himself and at her sharp lift of the head, knowing what he's referring to, he rephrases like it was what he meant all along, "I have one. With Serena and Lily and Eric. It just took me a little longer than it should have to realize it."

She nods, apparently willing to gloss over the little trip down memory lane of _ChuckandBlair BlairandChuck_ if he is, only he's already opened the floodgates now; he doesn't know how much longer he can last.

"Well," she says primly, "I'm glad you finally came around."

"So am I," is his concurring murmur.

"I better get back," she announces then, and there's a somber mood in the air as she silently turns to walk back across to the elevator and he makes no move to stop her.

"Blair," he calls out, finally, when he finds his voice, when he realize he can't let her leave, not like that, not without saying anything further.

She turns at the sound of her name on his tongue; lips slightly parted and open gaze.

He tries to gulp down his feelings, swallows his pride and hurt; works his jaw and bites down on his back teeth, buries his hopes and dreams of their future as she has. Only he can't, and it shows; in his eyes, on his face.

"I'm sorry," he says; and the words nearly break him.

She nods, and her eyes are shining and her teeth are biting and he realizes the words could break her too. "So am I."

And it's clear what they both mean.

I'm sorry it isn't us.

I'm sorry it isn't enough.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>I know it was a while coming, so I hope it didn't disappoint. This is pretty one-sided at this point, since it's from Chuck's pov, but I hope it's clear he's still hurt over Blair's decision, hence his denial and the way he's acting. Blair's opinions on that and how she found out and basically all her feelings on the whole Mirababy-matter will come into play in the sections to come, and the drama between them isn't quite over, sorry! Not quite time to make up.

Also, this is all supposed to be character-speak, not author-speak; so I won't always agree with what I have the characters say, but I'll still include it for various purposes, in case it seems like I'm purposely bashing or praising someone unnecessarily.

Thanks for reading, please lemme know what you thought :)  
>Steph<br>xxx


	11. Chapter 10

Another long chapter because I got carried away while I waited for to sort its shizz out and lost track of time in the gap.  
>Hope you enjoy…<p>

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Ten<span>

.

"_I wonder if Beethoven held his breath the first time his fingers touched the keys the same a way soldier holds his breath the first time his finger clicks the trigger, we all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe."  
><em>_**Andrea Gibson**_

.

"Don't jump."

He turns slowly from where he stands, raised up on the bordering slabs, hands placed firmly on the stone edging of the rooftop terrace, and finds Belle watching him.

"Funny," Chuck awards her.

"I wasn't trying to be," she tells him shortly, stepping towards him.

"Where have you been?" he asks over his shoulder, his lips twisting, "Hiding out in your hotel room? Savoring your last bout of freedom before I lock you up in our townhouse for the next twenty years?"

"I've been busy," she merely says to that. "I do _do _things you know, besides hang around here so we can take pot-shots at each other like it's some weird form of entertainment for the both of us."

"Did I imply that you don't have a life outside of mine?" he feigns innocence and ignorance all rolled into one; like she's naïve enough to fall for that. "My apologies."

She rolls her eyes at his antics and then takes another step forward, reaching out her hand. "Come on, we've got somewhere to be."

He simply arches a brow in her direction.

"And come back from there, would you?" Belle asks of him, shaking her head in an attempt to disperse whatever thoughts lie there from taking root, looking off to the side and then down at the decking; anywhere but at him, "For flip's sake."

"Why? Still think I'm going to jump?" Chuck taunts, leaning into the stone and then locking his elbows just as quickly as he pushes himself back and forth off the raised surround.

She refuses to give him the satisfaction of entertaining his little show even if he is doing it all for her, and instead turns her gaze away. Her hand is resting on her hip, her bag hanging by her opposite side, and she has one black jean-clad leg crossed behind the other, light-gray wedges positioned almost heel to toe balancing her out. "I heard you talked to Blair."

"_Talked _may not be the most accurate word for it," he remarks, turns back to look out at the skyline that falls below his domain, his Empire, as he considers what happened, "There was a lot of hurt, anger. I apologized."

"That's great," she replies, extending her hand to him again and then sweeping it across her front to gesture to the doors that lead back into the hotel with a sense of urgency that has him intrigued, "You can tell me all about it inside."

He turns back to face her. "You really think I'm going to do it don't you? That I'm going to jump?" he laughingly remarks, lifts his hands from where he previously had them clamped down on the ledge and throws out his arms to the side, because he didn't need them for balance then and he still doesn't now. "All I'm doing is leaning against the wall."

"Look would you just come inside?" Belle says, irritated, crossing her arms over her chest, the loose spearmint-hued material of her sweater continuing to billow in the wind as she does so.

"No," he refuses, coolly regarding her, "Not until you tell me why you're so quick to believe I'm suicidal. And why, if that's the case, are you so intent on having me as part of our child's life if I'm so _unstable_, if at any moment I could just _snap_ with the sudden urge to jump from my own hotel rooftop?"

"I never said you were suicidal, I just told you not to jump," she counters, narrowing her eyes at him just enough to tell him she doesn't like being baited like this.

"Because you think I will," Chuck presses on, ignoring the glare.

"_No_, because you talked to Blair after she found out about the baby and we all know it's really her you wish this was happening with, so what I _think_ is that it's actually hit you that the life you were supposed to have with her might never happen now," she counters, "Despite everything I said and everything Serena said, regardless of history or what you hope might happen in the future, there's suddenly this very real possibility that this, me and you and our baby, this is it for you. And when that's not what you planned, not what you really want, it's unsettling."

_Unsettling_. That's one way of putting it.

Scared shitless is another.

"And I _think _that shook you, like really shook you, because you always thought you could come back from everything and end up together and now you're not so sure. Now you've got this whole plan to get a house, for us to live together and raise our child together, even if we have no intentions of ever being a couple," she continues, tone matter-of-fact, "Only it's not so easy to pretend everything's going to work out now she knows, now you have to face her feelings on the matter instead of just your own."

He stays silent, processing all she's said.

"So looking over the edge probably seems like a good idea right now," Belle concludes, shrugs, "It's not so far if you've already started falling."

"So you think I'm going to jump to my death, kill myself, because I'm _unsure _about my future?" Chuck sneers, disbelief emanating from him in waves, "Of whether I even have one when I'm not with the woman I love?"

She lifts one shoulder, says quietly, "If you don't think you have a future anyway, what does it matter where you end your present?"

His brow puckers before his eyes reduce to slits. She's speaking in riddles, telling him she doesn't think he'd jump, but she'd understand if he did. Does she really think him so weak? That he'd give up everything he's about to have because he might've lost all that was once was? So selfish? That he'd trade a life with his child for none at all because Blair no longer wants to be part of his?

"I thought you said you never thought me suicidal?" he grits out, tries to contain his incredulity without letting the anger take over.

"I said dropping yourself from a great height wouldn't gain you any more perspective on your life," she rephrases, explains only to a point, "How was I to know your intention? Maybe you're of the opinion the head-rush would do you some good."

He rolls his eyes, and turns to look in the other direction from her, because that is most certainly not what she meant. He shoves himself away from the ledge completely, steps down from the raised block, tugs at his shirt cuffs and smoothes a hand down the front of his suit jacket (a darker shade to contrast against the light blues beneath and not an inch of green or black or gray like the various pieces adorning her frame) before starting to walk towards her.

"I had no intentions of jumping," he tells her as he reaches her, punctuates it enough so she knows he doesn't appreciate the insinuations on her part to the contrary. "I was just taking in the view."

"Good," she says, satisfied for the moment, and she looks different already, like she blinked and changed the view that greeted him from the deepest recesses of the ocean to the calm lilt on the sea surface, that captivating mix of green-blue.

She holds out her hand, and he stares down at it, making no move to accept this olive branch she offers.

She sounds more hopeful, vibrant; but he notes the way it takes that touch longer for the smile to reach her cheeks. "Now come with me and I'll show you one better."

"I highly doubt that," he remarks, now amused and therefore willing to let her try.

"Naturally," she comments, and then grabs his hand for herself and turns to cross the threshold with a determined step, sending him a wry smile over her shoulder with the words, "You're really going to have to learn to trust me one of these days."

She leads him through the doors and back into his hotel, continues to do so until they're walking through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk where his limo and driver are waiting.

"Where are we going?" he finally inquires.

"I have an ultrasound scheduled," Belle enlightens him and the smile she sends him is as real and optimistic as the moment calls for. She points directly at him, her excitement palpable in the short space between them that's filled with their child, "And you're going to see our baby for the first time."

She slides into the car and he stays where he is for a moment, clucks his teeth and shakes his head; so maybe there is something that can best the view from the top of the Empire.

"I suppose you already know where we're going," he comments to the elder who stands holding the door open for him, receiving a nod and a smile by way of an answer.

Chuck feels his lips curving at the thought of what's to come, and he can't ignore the way his heart skips a beat at the prospect. He makes himself concentrate solely on that feeling and its source; not what nearly had his heart stopping all together a short while ago.

He'll always love Blair, but she's not his whole life anymore; this is his future now.

.

"Haven't you got the hint yet?" she questions sullenly, when she looks up and sees her best friend standing in the doorway of her bedroom. "I don't want to talk to you."

"B, come on – I said I'm sorry, I never meant for you to find out that way, I wish Chuck had told you, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn't get him to tell you, neither could Nate, and I didn't want to lie right to your face, that was why I'd been avoiding being alone with you." She breathes in deep and then sighs, "I just – "

"You chose Chuck over me," Blair notes, her tone as unforgiving as her expression.

"B – "

"You can't lie about that too, Serena," she snidely interrupts, "It's what you did."

"Fine!" the blonde relents, crying out in frustration, "I chose Chuck over you – but that doesn't mean I wanted to, or that I was happy about it!"

"Oh please, you're clearly still not over the fact that I'm with Dan and this was your way of getting back at me," the brunette counters, snapping her magazine shut and eyeing the other coldly, "You forget I've always known you can be backstabbing bitch."

"That's not fair," Serena responds in a softer voice and then as if the only way to get her point across is to raise her voice, the only way to be heard is to loudly protest, she does exactly that with the explanation, "I didn't do this to hurt you, Blair! I honestly thought I was protecting you! Nobody knew except me and Nate – my Mom only just found out because she came by asking Chuck why he was buying a new place and he didn't want to keep it from her any longer so – "

"Oh, so now he's moving in with the little harlot?" is her biting retort, and she casts her gaze off to the side as she scoffs, "That's just wonderful. This keeps getting better and better."

How much more is she expected to take of this? She told him she couldn't give him what he wanted, so what? He just goes off and finds someone else to replace her and give him the family she couldn't? Is this supposed to be some form of punishment because she found herself having feelings for Dan so he has to go one better and get someone else _pregnant_?

She wants him to be happy; and though she might've said she couldn't be happy with him right now, that he should find someone else that could be happy with him and he with them, it wasn't so long ago that they were_ happy _together, that they were both so _ecstatic _over the prospect of raising her child together, _elated _at the idea of creating a family together. She knows what she said to him, knows it's not fair of her to be so jealous and angry and _hurt_, but she can't help it. He's been part of her life for so long, a near certainty that would intertwine intrinsically with her future; how can she be expected just to move on from this? This is huge. This changes everything.

"He wants to be there for his child, B," the blonde tells her, in a tone she recognizes as her best friend's way of trying to be _kind. _"Yes, he should've told you, and Nate and I shouldn't have kept it from you either, but Chuck's still hurting over you and Dan, so he's putting all his concentration on Mira and the baby to try and _stop _the hurting – "

"And that makes it ok for him to lie to me?" she demands, spinning back round to fit the other with an arched brow and an incredulous look, because if she holds onto his dishonesty she doesn't have to look beyond that to the content. "He should've told me, S. I told him about my baby and – " she cuts herself off, the memories still fresh even if she tries to pretend otherwise, and as if this was what she was going to add all along she concludes with, " – you're my best friend."

"And I'm Chuck's sister," Serena reminds her quietly.

"He should've told me," Blair repeats, "And you should've tried harder to make him."

"I know," the blonde admits. "I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, sorry won't change what's happening," is her response to that.

"He's trying, B," her best friend tells her, "I know he was wrong not to tell you, but he's trying to go about the whole baby situation the right way… well," and there's a roll of the eyes at that, "… now at least."

"Why?" she can't help but ask; her curiosity (an incessant need to know everything) and a lifetime with these people getting the better of her. "What was he doing before?"

"Nothing," Serena automatically defends him, and then with a slightly bashful look, relents, "Well, nothing really that _wrong_… it was just when he did the paternity test and had a contract drawn up for the future – he just went about it in a very _Chuck Bass_-way is all and naturally it didn't always go the way he intended, or maybe it did, I'm never quite sure with him. Anyway, I think they've sorted it out, well… _most_ of it anyway."

"Oh," she voices; isn't quite sure what she's supposed to say to that, isn't quite sure there's anything _to _say to that.

"Yeah," the blonde agrees, knows if there's one person she doesn't have to explain her brother's nature to, it's Blair. "Only now he's got it into his head that he has to live with Mira and the baby for them to work as parents, so he can be there and not miss out on seeing them grow up like his dad, or something. And before you go claiming this is her way of getting more money out of him or that it's part of some elaborate scheme she's running, this one's all on Chuck, B, even Mira doesn't think it's a good idea."

"So I'm supposed to be grateful that he managed to knock up someone who happens to possess enough brain-cells to think moving in with a person you barely know is a ludicrous decision, yet isn't quite smart enough to avoid having unprotected sex with Chuck Bass in the first place?"

"I'm going to gloss over that and pretend the same couldn't be applied to you as well because I imagine that's what you expect from me, and instead I'll just remind you that even with the best will in the world, nothing is fool-proof," Serena comments, fitting her with a look.

"Clearly," Blair mutters with a defiant roll of the eyes; she has no desire to rehash past events with her _ex's sister_, especially not now she knows where Serena's loyalties and concerns lie.

"And honestly, B? I don't know what you're supposed to think," the blonde continues, sounding exasperated. "I don't know what you want me to think."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she questions, arching a brow and staring the taller girl down; because they've known each other nearly their whole lives, been as close as sisters throughout. Has she really changed so much her own best friend, her own _family_, doesn't even recognize her?

"I know you still love Chuck is what it means," Serena replies, bold-faced and undeterred, "But you were the one who made the choice to be with Dan, the guy _I _still love – "

"I knew this was about my relationship – "

"God, B! If you'll let me finish!" her best friend cries out then, aggravated, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Why should I?" she demands, voice raised although not to the same level as the blonde's; her presence has always been enough to ensure she doesn't need to shout to be heard, doesn't need to cry out to be listened to. Some things at least remain the same.

Serena stares at her in slight disbelief and it follows through in her tone, "Because I gave up my chance to be with the guy I love so you could have your shot with him, and now – "

"Oh, open your eyes, Serena!" she cries out in response, the frustration getting to her now too as she says the only thing she knows will impact enough to hopefully put an end to their squabbling, their pretense at not being able to recognize the other anymore, "Dan wasn't interested in you. The only reason I actively sought him out after _you gave me your blessing _was because I knew he had feelings for me too."

"And now you've got him, and you're supposed to be committed to each other, and yet you're still so invested in what's going on in Chuck's life," the blonde counters, rolling her shoulders as she surveys the brunette, before telling her simply, "B, you can't blame me for not understanding this, because it doesn't make any sense."

"Just because I'm not _in love_ with Chuck anymore doesn't mean I've stopped loving him completely, I still care about him, _he knows that_," she bites out; because Serena should know that by now and so should he. By now, they really should know that and _she_ doesn't know what more she can do if he (they) doesn't believe her already. He's always going to be a part of her: he was always in her past, continually there in her present, never far from her future; it's just now, now she can't see their future together. So no matter her present, no matter who she may be with and why and what's going on at the moment; the fact that she now can't even envision the possibility of sharing in his future, that _terrifies_ her. She's not supposed to lose him altogether; he was always supposed to be in her life.

"Right," is all the blonde allows, because she can't understand it; it's as if when her best friend fell out of love with Louis the feelings transferred to Dan by proximity, skipping over Chuck and Serena and her heart altogether.

"Chuck's having a child with someone else, Serena," she says, acknowledges the magnitude of this statement, but blinks, swallows, won't allow the side-effects to manifest, "After everything that's happened, after everything we've been through together, you can't expect me not to be affected by that."

Blair wishes her best friend would, _could_, understand, but she has a feeling the only person fit for that position is the very one she has no desire to speak to in the immediate future.

"If anything, Blair, you're about as affected as I thought you'd be by all this," Serena responds, and then shoots the brunette a smile that shifts like apparently her loyalties have, "Then again, I'm working under the assumption you're still in love with Chuck. So you might want to tone down all that hurt and anger when you talk about it around Dan, or he might just start thinking you're not as over Chuck as you claim."

.

There's something indescribable about seeing your child for the first time.

Chuck stares at the screen in disbelief, words failing him as the feelings begin their ascent to overtake him completely.

"And I just want to check," the Doctor says, holding the instrument in place on Belle's stomach and looking to both expectant parents as he poses the question, "You don't want to find out the baby's sex, correct?"

"What?" He lifts his head from the monitor, brow furrowed. "You can tell us? If the baby's a boy or girl?"

"That's usually the practice," the Doctor replies, indulging him with a smile, "If that's what you want."

He nods. "No, I know that, I just – " His lips curve a touch, his eyes already back on the moving images of his tiny child currently being displayed before him, and he glances at the elder as he quietly admits, "I'm still stuck on the fact I'm about to become a father, I hadn't given much thought to whether that's going to be of a son or a daughter."

"That's understandable," is the response he receives, tone and expression considerate, "Having a baby is a life-changing experience."

_No kidding_, Chuck's tempted to deadpan, but holds his tongue. He sees Belle's mouth twitch slightly and imagines she's doing the same with something similar.

"So have you re-considered?" The Doctor looks to her first and then him, as he asks, "You'd _like_ me to tell you the sex of the baby?"

"No, it's still going to be a surprise until the baby's born," Belle answers, and then turns to look up at him, her eyes bright as she says, "That's ok, right? That we don't find out?"

He's not really sure. On one hand he's eager to find out whether they're having a baby boy or girl, but on the other – on the other hand, he's just happy knowing their future child is healthy and safe, regardless of their sex.

"I really want it to be a surprise till the end," she reveals with a smile that only further enhances her beauty down to its bare bones.

And because he has no overwhelming preference either way, something that admittedly he didn't expect, while she seems to feel strongly on this one in particular; he agrees.

"So, we're leaving the gender reveal until the birth," the Doctor deduces in settlement, nodding in acceptance.

Except, the niggle of curiosity has started and he can't help but inquire, "Is it obvious?"

"The sex of the baby?" the Doctor asks, his hand stilling over a particular spot on Belle's abdomen once again.

He nods, the smirk already making its way to his lips. "Yeah," he confirms his earlier query, "Is it obvious if it's a boy or a girl?"

"Chuck," Belle automatically scolds, glaring at him and slapping his arm, "You just agreed to let it be a surprise for when the baby's born, stop twisting it around."

"I'm not," he replies laughingly and holding his hands up in defense; neither his dark suit nor the shirt underneath offer much protection from the sharp, swift swipe of her palm. He gestures to the screen with a shrug and the amused words, "I was just curious."

She rolls her eyes, knows exactly what he's referring to and turns to direct at the Doctor, "He just wants to know if our child has a noticeably-sized penis for its developing age and if that's how you can tell whether it's a boy or girl."

Belle shoots Chuck another look and he can't help it, the smirk continues to twist his mouth upwards.

"He wants to claim early bragging rights," she adds by way of explanation, "Because _he's _a dick like that."

The Doctor chuckles and with a slight shake of the head at their back-and-forth answers, "Well, Mr. Bass, I have been in this profession for quite the number of years now and can assure you that if you wanted to know the sex of your baby, I'd be able to tell you with near complete accuracy; regardless of anatomy size."

He nods, claps his hands together, and exclaims, "So we're having a girl? That's all you had to say, Doc, no need to try and pass off your platitudes to me about raising a kid with a non-existent prick."

"Chuck!" is the hiss from his side, followed by a few quick slaps to his arm and torso.

"Hey! Quit it!" he protests, squirming out of her reach not nearly quick enough; he's going to have to work on his reflexes before the baby arrives, mouth still curved and dark eyes dancing, "I was only kidding. Relax, Doc didn't _reveal _anything. We can keep baby gender-neutral till it expels itself from your uterus."

Belle scowls at him. "I hate you."

Chuck laughs. "Come now, don't let the baby hear you spilling lies like that. It'll only get upset and kick you extra hard to get your attention."

"I swear you have the baby trained to only respond to your touch," she mutters and then shoots him another glare, "And stop calling our child '_it_'."

"Well _it_ wouldn't be an _it_ if someone wasn't so insistent _its_ gender remains a mystery until _it_ is in our arms," he reminds her, pointing out, "Can't pick an appropriate name for _it _if we don't know what _it _is."

"Quit being difficult, you agreed and I have a witness," she replies and then sends him a look as she continues with, "And your name suggestions have been seriously questionable thus far, anyway."

He scoffs. "Right, as opposed to the ones on your list."

"I'm just going to leave you both alone for a few minutes while I go get the DVD sorted," the Doctor announces in between their snappy responses, finishing up with the ultrasound equipment and taking his leave in a series of swift, but efficient maneuvers.

"If you feel that strongly about it, why don't you go and ask the Doctor to tell you?" she suggests, and then she narrows her eyes, pointing her finger emphatically at him, "But I swear, if you tell anyone and try to ruin this for me, I won't forgive you."

"Stop being overdramatic," he replies, heaving a sigh, "I said we could keep it a surprise till the birth and we can. I was just having a little fun, that's all."

"Well your timing sucks," she mutters, clearly unimpressed as she crosses her arms over her chest with a _hmph_.

He laughs and moves over to take her hands in his, tugging her upwards into a sitting position and then helping her straighten up until she's near eye-to-eye with him.

"Come on, let's get you out of here before you try and put a redaction on the medical files," he says, throwing her a quick smile and then swooping down to pluck her bag from the floor by his feet and place his hand at the small of her back, leading her out the door he holds open for her like the gentleman he more-often-than-not pretends not to be.

"You're still not funny," Belle tells him, with a side glance his way.

"Not even trying to be," Chuck practically sing-songs in response, but he's grinning all the way to the limo.

.

"Do you always feel the need to ruin a perfectly good moment?"

Chuck turns to look at her and slowly raises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, did you really just ask me that? You, who flitters between interrupting everything and anything, to simply dropping bombshells without any preamble? You're asking _me_ if I always feel the need to ruin a moment?" He laughs. "I'm getting you a pocket mirror; you need to take a look at yourself a little more often."

She rolls her eyes and relents. "_Fine_, so I have a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but this one was all on you."

"I dare say after all you've pulled since you've arrived that we're pretty much even by now," he points out, "Besides, I was simply pushing my enjoyment of the moment to the next level."

"You asked our doctor if he could tell the sex of our baby by whether it had a visibly giant penis or not," she deadpans at that.

He laughs, can't help himself; no matter how juvenile. "Actually _you_ asked him that, I merely inquired if, in his professional opinion, as a presiding doctor in the hospital for many years, it was clear to see whether we were having a boy or girl. I never asked him to clarify on the yes or no answer."

"You drive me insane," she informs him.

"Then you should consider it good practice for motherhood, I hear children can be a handful at times," he responds in kind, flashing her a smug smirk.

"Did you get the DVD?" she speaks up after a short while.

"Did I get the DVD?" he repeats her words, shooting her a look, "Woman, what do you take me for? Of course, I got the DVD. I wasn't leaving there _until _I got the DVD."

"Want to repeat it a little more? I didn't quite get that," she teases.

"Shut-up," he mutters, though his lips are curved.

Belle turns to look out the window, a soft smile playing across her lips as she takes in the passing scenery.

"Want to watch it?" Chuck asks.

"Now?" she asks, turning back round to look at him, slight surprise evident on her face.

He tilts his head to the side, taking her all in. "Yes, now. What? You think I'd travel in a vehicle not equipped with an adequate entertainment system," he _tuts_, "Please, these low expectations you seem to possess for my standards of living are beginning to get insulting."

She's still smiling as he moves to speak to his driver and set up the disc in the player.

When he settles back into the leather, she shifts across closer to him and soon they're both transfixed once again on the sight of their growing baby captured on the screen before them.

"Oh God," she groans, grabbing his hand from its place next to hers and flattening it out over a certain part of her midriff.

"What's wrong? Baby testing its reflexes again?" he asks, chuckling softly as he gently strokes across the area where their child is currently expending its energy on its mother's insides, "You know it's a good thing I have a private jet because our kid is exhibiting the classic signs of those annoying brats who repeatedly kick the chairs in front of them during a flight. I can only imagine the havoc they'd cause were they to be let loose on public transport."

She rolls her eyes. "Not that you've likely ever experienced such discomfort, of course, or plan to allow our child to do so. And there is such a thing as telling them to stop, you know."

He grins. "But where would be the fun in that?"

She shakes her head at him and then grimaces.

"And baby isn't just testing their reflexes, I think they're trying to tell us they're excited to see themselves on screen," she says, and he raises his eyebrows at her, because that sounds implausible at best. She shoots him a look, grimacing with the apparent realization, "Oh God, our baby loves itself already."

He can't help it, he laughs outright at that.

"This is all your fault," she accuses him, though he can see the smile she's trying to suppress, "I swear if our child displays outright narcissistic tendencies I'm putting them in some kind of reform school to sort them out."

"A healthy dose of confidence never hurt anyone," he remarks and then grins, "Besides, you can be a cocky little thing when the mood takes you. Baby got this from both of us."

"Well, _you _can fix it," she returns, frowning down at her stomach with a pout, and in a pleading voice saying, "Make baby stop using my insides like a plane seat and trying to kick the living daylights out of me."

He smiles, continuing the ministrations, his eyes on her as he finds hers already staring back at the monitor. Her face is a picture of wonder and joy and he turns to see what has her so mesmerized now.

Their baby is lying curled with its thumb in its mouth, and by all accounts looks the perfect image of a contentedly sleeping child.

"Don't worry," he says, tone low, voice like spun silk, the kind that will make up the material their child will be swathed in the moment it enters the world, "Our baby will have the perfect measure of confidence and self-esteem to survive a life with us as its parents."

"Well, I suppose we should have some faith in our future performance," she concedes, nodding down at the swollen stomach that is no longer being tackled from the inside under his touch and her guidance. "Baby obviously likes us enough so far to continually try to gain our attention like this."

"It's working," he notes.

She smiles, nods. "I don't think our child will ever have to worry about being ignored."

"Not even a possibility," he agrees.

"Because they'll be a _Bass_?" Belle teases in return, giggling, and it's one of those times he doesn't mind her hormones going haywire; it suits her character more, being carefree and happy, bantering with him like this. During moments such as this, she reminds him more of Serena, and less of Blair, and that will always be preferable given how they got their start and how they've come to their end.

"Because they're _ours_," Chuck answers in all seriousness; sure his name will factor into it, but he knows from experience, Belle is hard to ignore in her own right. He has no doubt that their child will attract an audience throughout their life; is certain they'll make their mark on the world, regardless of parental influence.

As far as he's concerned, there's no one more important in existence than his own child, and he doesn't imagine his opinion on that will ever change. He will always put his own child first, he will always think the best of them; he will be proud to have them carry his name, take pleasure in picking them out and showing them off to the masses, feel an unmatched love as he watches them grow from now until the end of his time.

He stares at the screen, feels the heat of her hand in his as it continues to rest on her stomach above where their child rests, and they watch their child lie sleeping, heart beating in a steady rhythm that reverberates around the space that surrounds them.

They love their child, that's all that matters.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>Ok, so clearly the 'revelation' is rippling through the other relationships as well, but you can't say you didn't expect that at least a little. I did have everyone lie to Blair, but then she's also been avoiding them to hang out with Dan – but that's a separate issue that I don't think I'll be exploring so much lol – so everyone's got issues with their issues and each other right now haha.<br>I'm sure they'll come around soon enough, Blair will make up with Serena, and she and Chuck will get their chance again, and they'll have plenty of opportunity with the coming parties and turning up unannounced at one another's place of residence as they're so prone to do, and whatnot – so I'm sure it'll all be fine ;) hee  
>Hope you stick with me for it.<p>

There's some CB in the next chap, and then more Blair/CB to come later, and another update should be up tomorrow or the next :)  
>Steph<br>xxx


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

.

"_Friends don't help each other because they have to. They do it because they want to."  
><em>'_**Wolfskin', Juliet Marillier**_

.

"What are you doing here?" she questions as she walks into the foyer to find him standing waiting for her. "I thought we said all we had to say."

"Not quite," Chuck says quietly.

Blair raises an eyebrow and he takes the moment to drink in her presence. Standing before him, hand on her hip as she surveys him coolly in return, she's wearing a sleeveless, printed dress that accentuates her gorgeous figure and cuts diagonally across her thighs, leaving him with ample view of one slim leg and a more modest sight of the other. Not that he's about to let his gaze linger there.

"I'm sorry I never told you about Belle and the baby," he says, acknowledging his mistake in this regard for perhaps the first time.

She shifts, and he knows this has been bothering her though she'd like to pretend otherwise.

"You told me about you and Louis and I – I didn't extend you the same courtesy," he accepts, because this is true, "I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, you've never exactly been known for being the most thoughtful person in the world, Bass," she utters, although it comes across quite primly and he can tell her guard is still up; she's trying to avoid acknowledging those times when he _was _thoughtful, when _all_ he thought about was her.

He can't exactly blame her after the way she found out about the whole situation and where they left their last encounter; but he recognizes that this might only be the beginning. He knows her, if she doesn't actually _deal _with this like he's had to, it will eat away at her and she'll only alienate them all more than she already has. He can only hope that doesn't happen, for no matter how she may be treating him of late _he_ at least remembers all those times when she was more than generous with her time and support and only ever wanted to be there for him. So, while his judgment may be classed as wayward at times and his methods a tad questionable; he really doesn't want her to lose more than she already has. He'll always want what's best for her.

As much as he realizes why she's acting this way, he still wants to argue that more often than not he is thoughtful when it comes to her, but he doesn't. Instead, he ducks his head, releases a humorless laugh in a sigh, and then shakes his head as he lifts it, meeting her gaze once more.

"True," he concedes.

Except where she's concerned he really had been making so much more of an effort to _only _think of her, before she turned around and left him high and dry; until she gave him reason to think he shouldn't bother; until his pride and hurt got in the way and distracted him from what really mattered, what always would. Her.

"But I didn't just fail to tell you what was going on, I tried to actively keep it from you," he pushes on, determined to get it all off his chest so she can't say he didn't own up to it; can't say he hasn't been trying to grow up, do better, _be _better, "And I tried to get Serena and Nate to go along with me."

"Look how well that turned out," Blair mutters; miffed, to say the least.

"Exactly," he commiserates along with her.

He shakes his head at how events unfolded, and in that moment his brain decides to remind him of how little things have changed in the meantime. (The blue and purple speckles infused with the other colored pixels on the light fabric of her dress also happen to match the varying blue tones of his suit and shirt perfectly. He hates that he's reading into their coordinated sense of fashion as a sign of things to come, but if that's what their relationship has come to he'll take what he can right now).

"Just… try not to hold it against them?" he asks of her, taking responsibility like he knows he should, like he should have before, "It was all my doing, they were simply trying to do what was best for everyone in the short-term because they couldn't convince me to tell you."

"You should've told me," she says, and he can see this is one of the roots to the grudge she's currently holding.

"I know," he agrees. "And like I said: I am sorry."

Three words, eight letters.

He doesn't need the reminder his brain sends him of a time past, that which he may never recapture; the feelings of which he may never reconnect to, a person involved he may never fully reconcile with.

There's not much more he can say or do; he means it, this apology he's giving her, and he knows it might be too little too late, but he's acknowledging his wrongdoing and trying to rectify it. What's done is done, he can't change it. In all honesty, as much as he still loves her, can't imagine a time when he won't; he wouldn't turn back time and alter it so he's not about to become a father. The idea's ingrained now; he's living each day with the thought that it's taking him one step closer to becoming someone's father. As much as he might still hold the wish that Blair was the one carrying his first-born, that doesn't mean he wishes his first-born didn't exist.

"I don't know how many more times I can say it," he adds, because he honestly can't see another way round this unless she starts to accept what's happening and takes his apology for what it is.

"Maybe until it manifests the ability to magically undo the fact you got another girl pregnant and then not only lied to me about it, but got our friends to lie about it too," she returns, and her eyes grow harder, voice colder, and he knows it will be a while yet before she's anywhere near _ok _with this whole situation, "Oh wait, apologies can't actually _do _that since they're just supposed to be used to make someone forget they've been hurt and gloss over whatever happened so the other person can go on with their life like they never did anything wrong."

"Blair – "

She swallows and he can see the beginnings of the tears shaping her coffee-bean eyes; the problem is they're too awake, too alert, and he knows she wishes they were anything but. "Are we done?" she prompts, "Now you've apologized?"

Chuck nods, accepts there's nothing more he can do for her right now.

"Good," Blair returns, nods her head more times than is necessary. "Then you can see yourself out."

She turns away from him before he can even say another word.

He watches her make her journey back up the spiral stairs, knows she's making a direct path towards her bedroom and will likely shut the door firmly behind her as soon as she enters, lest company intrudes on this moment any further. He wants to believe she won't make a beeline for the bathroom, has to trust that that part of her life is over for good, that it won't ever return to haunt her again, that the scars remain where they are and continue to shed their hold on her as she knits herself back together piece by piece.

He only wishes such a portrayal couldn't be applied to their relationship; that there is hope for them yet.

.

"What's that smell?" he asks when he enters his penthouse and feels the heat and scent of something unnaturally enticing wafting through the space.

Nate greets him from the sofa, holds up his hands in defense. "Nothing to do with me," he says, though Chuck could've guessed as much given the reason for his suspicion is a distinct lack of an additional, more potent, smell to accompany the base layer. His best friend then points to the wall in front of him that acts as a divide between their living room and kitchen, "This one's all on her."

"Do I want to know?" he asks of the three occupants on his couch, who offer him varying degrees of their attention in return.

Dom waves him off. "She's just stress baking," is his throwaway explanation and then he curses under his breath and immediately returns both hands to the controller with added vigor as Serena's laughter surrounds them, having taken advantage of the elder's distraction long enough to overtake his position.

His sister's opponent curses again when it costs him the race and tosses the handheld device on the table, petulant in his loss, while the blonde plucks up one of the many delicacies spread before them and plops it in her mouth, gleefully beaming around the treat at the one who lost at her hand letting it add emphasis to her joy at the victory.

"Don't worry about it," Dom tells him when he's stopped pouting at Serena enough to realize Chuck is still watching them all, "Something happens, she bakes, the tension all goes into that, she emerges her old self with an apology or explanation. Good as new." He grins and plops a cupcake of his own in his mouth.

"I'd ask you what you did, but this is one of those times when the outcome's actually pretty beneficial for us," Nate remarks, swallowing a mouthful himself.

"Right?" the elder turns to the other in agreement, and then directs at Chuck, "And as much as I'm loathe to admit it, this one's likely only partly to do with you – my sister had issues before you came along, they're not just going to disappear now we're on a different continent."

"And these are _so_ good, Chuck!" Serena says; lips layered in frosting that extends across her cheeks.

"So good you can't contain their goodness to your mouth!" Nate laughs and when she frowns, looking down and brushing off the crumbs from her skirt, he takes his opportunity to shove an icing covered cupcake in her face, mashing it into her nose till she's coated in its ingredients.

Serena leaps back, shocked and makes a move for one herself; lobbing it right at their best friend and hitting his shoulder as he ducks away, laughing even more now.

Dom takes the moment to jump over the back of the sofa for cover while Chuck merely steps around the trio.

His sister takes it as his frustration at them wasting perfectly good food; like he ever really indulges in cake. She looks up at him; moments after he'd watched her sweep numerous little cakes into her lap, pulling at the hem to ensure she caught them in the material of her top, and now having dropped back down behind the armchair she's currently using as her shield. "Oh, don't worry, there's plenty more for you to enjoy!"

He nods, figures it's easier to stay silent than retort to the contrary or say anything at all, in fact.

"Chuck," Dom calls out to him as he nears the adjoining room, "Do me a favor?" he asks, and there's a plea in his eyes that he won't let reach his tongue, "Just indulge her for the time-being, until she wants to talk."

He gives a simple nod in agreement, though he's reserving judgment on whether he'll actually follow through on that until he sees the damage, so to speak.

He steps into the kitchen and doesn't know where to look: various baked goods cover every inch of the space; cupcakes, donuts, cookies, brownies; and she's standing in the middle of it all, in the same outfit as earlier, bare-feet betraying her true height in relation to the cupboards above and causing her to reach on tiptoe for numerous items with the suggestion she's not quite done yet.

"I see you've been busy in my absence," he remarks.

Belle spins round, icing tube clutched between fingers, brushing the dark hair away from her face with the back of her other hand and then rubbing at the curve of her cheek where there's a smudge of white. Her black pants are dusted in flour and her fingertips are stained like the rainbow, with cake mix on the tips of some loose curls that cascade over her shoulders, apparently missing the straps of her top underneath completely and instead spreading the batter onto the cashmere that layers it. And despite the mess that's given rise to the abundant assortment of baking, she looks totally in her element here. He's never seen her like this. It's certainly a sight to behold.

There's a small smile on her face, not quite bashful, but not quite ready to fall into the start of another entertainment session with him just yet.

"You're not planning on joining your fellow Kindergarteners out there and attacking me with that are you?" Chuck inquires anyway, eyeing the object in her hand.

She frowns and then follows his gaze round the side, seems to fully comprehend the shouts and laughter and various _splats_ coming from the other room, and puts the tube down on the counter with a shake of the head.

"I'd say I'm glad someone else is of sound mind like myself, but you are using my kitchen like it's start-up bakery, so I'm not about to align myself with whatever your idea of normalcy is quite yet," he comments, his nose scrunching as he teases her.

"You don't want one?" she asks then, and there's a mischievous smile on her lips, "I mean, it's not like I can be accused of not providing enough variety. I'm catering to the masses here."

He chuckles along with her, surveying all that's around them. "You most certainly are," he agrees, and then looks back at her, "What happened? Did you have a craving for some baked goods, but nothing Room Service could provide was quite to your liking so now you're on a quest to show you don't have to be from the Upper East Side to know quality?"

She throws her head back as she laughs and it's a welcome sight; this carefree moment where all she looks is young and happy and free to do anything. "You make it seem like I despise you for your money, which I don't. I like money," she claims, smiling in place of the laughter, "I just don't happen to think it's the be-all-and-end-all," she shrugs genially, "There's more important things in life."

"So you say," he teases and she rolls her eyes; because she knows even he can't claim such a thing after seeing what he did today.

She continues to smile right back at him, humoring him and answering his earlier question, "No cravings… well, not due to the baby anyway. I stress bake, it's a thing, loads of people do it."

"I bet they do," he comments and then loosely gestures to all of the items scattered across the kitchen counters as he asks, "So when we had all those disagreements… ?"

"Did I go back to Dom's and empty out his cupboards of any and all ingredients and then make him go out and buy me more when those ran out? Yes, yes I did," she nods, confirming his immediate suspicions, "And when I wasn't staying there and couldn't make the stuff for myself, I actually went out and found a cake decorating class to go to."

He doesn't even bother hiding his amusement at this, because that is all sorts of ridiculous.

"I know, I know," she acknowledges how ludicrous this all sounds with a roll of her eyes and a flippant raise of the hand as she owns up to taking part in it, "But it's a healthier outlet than other alternatives."

He's about to pick up on that and question if she's referring to the rooftop, when the noise from the other room subsides and pulls at their curiosity instead.

"You've not poisoned them, have you?" he idly inquires, craning his neck round the partition to try and spy the trio previously playing war with baked items in his living room. Housekeeping's sure to have a field day when he calls them.

"No," she tells him easily, and then considers it, "Well… all the ingredients are full fat and high in sugar content, which I suppose could constitute poison in some places."

A wry smile turns his lips, some places being the Upper East Side.

"So about this morning… " she tapers off.

"Yes, when you all but accused me of being about to leap from my roof because I happened to be leaning over the edge enjoying the view afforded to me from owning a hotel and all the amenities that come with it," he finishes for her.

"Yeah… sorry," she says and then leans back against the counter, ducking her head as her fingers curl over the edge.

"Why – ?" he begins to ask and then rephrases, "What happened that would make you think taking in the sights correlates to being about to jump off the ledge in an attempt to join them?"

"Cas," she says quietly, lifting her eyes to meet his.

"Your best friend?" he asks, because from everything he found _before_, the girl is very much alive and well.

She nods, then raises her head to look at him fully. "I don't know how much was included in the report your guy made up, or how much you remember of reading it, but… in the interests of full disclosure – "

"And to put my mind at ease that I'm not about to spend the next twenty years of my live housed next to a crazy person," he interjects, with a quick twist of his mouth.

"Like you'd even last that long," she remarks with a small quirk of the lips, "And as if you haven't already had it verified that I'm mentally stable."

"So far as is medically acceptable, this appears to be true," he concedes and sends her a small smile so she knows he only means it as a harmless taunt.

"Right," she agrees, and then takes a deep breath, "So, as I was saying – and this might veer into longer storytelling territory, but just bear with me ok? Right, so… when my mum… when she died in that car crash, it was Cassie's mum who was driving."

He remembers now: "She was in a coma for weeks."

Belle nods. "The doctors didn't know if she would wake up at one point or the extent of her injuries until she did. There was talk of brain damage and pressure on her spinal column that might be irrevocable, though she ended up without complications from either."

"And the other woman, she died too," Chuck adds.

She takes a moment before expanding, "Yeah, Crispin's mom. They were all friends, and they'd gone out to lunch together, picked up Cas on their way back. The roads were wet; Jan lost control, overturned on the motorway and got side-swiped by a van before they hit the central-reservation."

"And your friend… Cas," he tests the name on his tongue, wondering if it's a nickname suitable for all or just one, and at her nod continues, frowns as he asks, "She… tried to commit suicide?"

"No, she just…" Belle sighs, drops her head, looking up at him a beat later with the admission, "I don't know."

He's still frowning as he watches her.

"Somehow, she managed to pretty much walk away from the scene unscathed; she had a broken arm and a concussion, but if you saw the pictures you know it was a miracle either of them survived at all," she explains, swallows and then pushes on, "But her Mum's fate was in limbo and her Dad went into like this crisis-meltdown mode. My Mum was gone and so was Crispin's; his Dad was essentially numb and no help to him or his brother so she didn't have them either. And Dom and I were too busy trying to find a way to stay together to worry about anything else," she shrugs, finally breathes again as she acknowledges, "It was a shitty time for all of us."

"I'm sorry," Chuck says and he genuinely means it; thinks of the ripples of chaos that rang out from his father's accident, imagines it tripled and spread across the conjoined families of all his friends by comparison. It would be crippling.

"We always thought the CF would get her," Belle divulges then with a humorless laugh, "Sure Mum lived a healthy life, was as medicated and treated as she could be, but there were always those bad days that could turn worse and I guess… " she shrugs; still won't quite go there, but surmises all the same, "I suppose you could say we were a little more prepared for it than the others."

"No one's prepared for that," he says, because it's true; no matter the time limit, or the circumstances involved, death will always deal a hard blow.

"Maybe not, but we had a ritual we followed just in case. It didn't matter what happened, if we thought the other person puked rainbows or we'd just had a massive blowout, we never went a day without telling each other 'I love you'." She looks him straight in the eye, "That's more of a goodbye than the others had."

He stays silent, because what can he say to that? She's right. It's not fair, but again it is true. Such is the nature of life, however, and death.

"Crispin wasn't fairing too well, but he tried not to let it show because he thought he had to look after his brother. There's only a few years between them, but Tomo was only fifteen at the time, he was too young to be dealing with any of it," she discloses and he doesn't mention the fact that she was too young to be dealing with any of it either, glosses over it like she apparently has all these years, "I still don't think it really hit him until their Dad remarried a year later. Iris is fantastic, and it's all worked out so _so_ well, but Crispin's never really forgiven his Dad for it and the fallout when it happened was horrendous."

The memories seem fresh despite the years that have passed, and she clears her throat, moves on to another before she gets too caught up in the previous.

"Dom was trying to sort out Mum's will, but there was hassle with the Guardianship forms, I dunno; the Social Workers were never very keen on the idea of him looking after me, not even when Mum and him first pushed for it when the suggestion of the transplant was brought up. They always thought it was too much responsibility, he was only eighteen after all and they felt it'd be better if I stayed with a foster family and he could just schedule visits with me without the added pressure of parenting me and trying to have some semblance of a life too," she rolls her shoulders, breathes out a sight, "Maybe they were right, especially since our back-up and support system was essentially shot to pieces in the wake of the accident," she concedes, "But it certainly didn't feel like they were right at the time."

He waits silently for her to continue, knows he needs to give her this, knows she needs to tell him, and maybe he needs to hear it just as much.

"Somewhere in all the mess, Cas got lost," she admits, and he notes the shame coloring her words and her features, "She was thirteen years old and her life was falling apart and nobody seemed to care enough to notice."

"Did she – ?" He leaves the question unfinished, swallows the words so he doesn't have to voice them. Thinking of the possibility, applying it to the brushes with death he's very nearly succumbed to over the years, linking it with Eric's attempt of his own to do just that; it's all too real, too relatable.

"I don't know," she repeats her earlier words honestly, brokenly; and even after all this time, nearly a decade, he can tell it still eats away at her, the uncertainty, the guilt. "I found her on the roof of the hospital. The nurses used to sneak us up there sometimes when we'd go with my Mum to her treatment sessions," she rolls her eyes, adds almost scathingly, "Before they made it into some feng shui meditation garden or whatever it ended up being for the in-patients, when it was still just bricks and mortar and then a drop to the ambulance bay below."

"Was she on the ledge?" he asks, doesn't take his eyes off her even as he shifts position.

"No." She shakes her head. "But she was leaning far enough over, pressed too tightly against the wall, to be doing anything but contemplating the fall."

"Did she want to do it?" he probes then, because as he knows all too well, this is what matters; the intent behind the action.

"I don't think so," she replies, "I think she just wanted something she could control. Like this way she could choose to jump over the ledge knowing that gravity would help her descend the rest of the way she'd already started going, or she could step back and try and deal with what was happening another way, wait for the outcome, try and help her parents through whatever was to come."

He mulls this over, because it makes sense; or at least, he can see where she'd take such assumptions from. And anything is preferable to the notion that someone you love, someone you care for, wants to end their own life.

She shakes her head, laughs without humor again, and declares, "God, I was such a shitty friend."

"It was a shitty time for all of you," he reminds her of her own words.

"It took me thinking my best friend was about to throw herself off the hospital roof to notice how much she was suffering," she refutes, and he knows it's not self-pity she's projecting; recognizes her calm, clear belief that she did wrong and if she can't change that from happening, she can at least try and improve the outcome, as she insists, "That's a horrible wake-up call and I shouldn't have needed it."

This time he does say it: "You were twelve years old."

She shakes her head, adamant. "She's my best friend, and I wasn't there when she needed me. I can try make up for it, but that's never going to go away. It doesn't matter how old I was or what was happening in my own life, my best friend needed me, I should've been there."

"We all make mistakes," he tells her; because it's all he can offer, however trite it may be.

She cracks a smile. "And I'm grateful for the time I have to try and correct them."

He shares in it, his lips curving a touch; he knows such a statement can be used in reference to their current situation.

"So… now that I've unloaded all that on you, I'll say I'm sorry _again_," she concludes, inclining her head towards him in recognition of his willingness to indulge her the story, the time.

He nods, accepting it, but stays silent.

"What? No witty comeback?" she asks, mock-gasping and shooting him a wide-eyed look, "Well, I am shocked."

Chuck rolls his eyes. "I am capable of allowing someone else their moment, you know."

"Really?" Belle asks, laughing again already; she reminds him of Serena the way she can jump from topic to topic, then again, it might just be the hormone influence (his sister has no such excuse for her flakiness), "I hadn't noticed."

He shoots the brunette a look, because did he not just stand and digest her tragic tale from the past even though he knows most of it already from the words of many an objective source?

She flashes him a quick smile and he notes the gratitude in it like she'd heard him speak his thoughts aloud.

"I wouldn't jump," Chuck tells her then, feels the odd and sudden urge to explain, put her mind at ease in this instance if nothing else. "There was one time, when I might have, after my father died and I came back to New York. I was drunk and high and I don't think it was so much I wanted to die, it was just… "

He shakes his head, likely as unsure of the reason as she still is of the occurrence involving her best friend.

"You were already falling, so that extra drop didn't seem so bad?" she asks, repeating her earlier words.

"Yeah, I suppose," he agrees easily, because she has a point and it fits. When you've already resigned yourself to the fall, what's a little more height to start you off on the rest of your journey into the abyss? "Until I dropped the bottle and watched it shatter into a million little piece and nearly toppled over the edge. I was given a reason to come back down. So I did, I came back from the edge, realized I didn't actually want to put an end to _Chuck Bass, _and eventually came to understand that I needed to reconcile myself with what happened and stop running, stop falling."

"What brought you back?"

"Blair," he says and then laughs at the irony of it all; she saved his life then only for another girl to think she'd be the cause of ending it now.

Belle releases a small laugh with him, she should've known. "Of course."

He nods in agreement.

"You still love her."

"I've resigned myself to the fact I'll never stop loving Blair," he tells her plainly, "Even if I'm not the one she's with at a certain point in time or the one she claims to have found happiness with."

She nods, can see this for herself in everything he does, says; even when he might pretend to be feeling otherwise. "Yeah… see… I'm not as good as you," she acknowledges with a slightly rueful smile, "I love Crispin, and I want him to be happy, _of course _I do, but that doesn't mean I'm going to watch with a smile and an offering of congratulations if he goes about it with someone else. It hurts, why put yourself through that?"

He nods, can understand this though it's not the path he's chosen, not the way that was chosen for him.

"God, we're a pair aren't we?" she marvels, with a shake of the head, "We're both in love with other people who apparently love us back, but they're with someone else and living somewhere else, and we're making more progress with each other than with either of them."

He inclines his head. "Well, if we're talking being in love with someone we can't have, we should really bring Serena into the fold. She does love Dan after all."

"Blair's Dan?" she raises an eyebrow.

"He was my Dan first," a sullen voice answers from the doorway.

"Oh," the brunette voices, looking sympathetically to the blonde, "Sorry."

Serena shrugs. "It is what it is." Although none of them seem to believe that. "I came for more cupcakes," and not willing to spend anymore time on the topic for the moment, she then takes the pause to explain only the current situation, "Nate took a bite out of every one of mine."

Belle laughs, stacking some in her hands and handing them over. "I thought you were using them as weapons?"

"We were," his sister replies, and then adds almost petulantly, "But I had a stash I wanted to eat."

"And since when has sharing saliva with Archibald deterred you from something?" he inquires at that, deciding to revel in this moment for all its worth and sending her a fully-fledged smirk at his teasing.

"Gross, Chuck," Serena remarks, and then says, "He threw them all at Dom after licking the icing off, said it was funnier that way."

"It is," Nate insists as he saunters into the kitchen, and it's obvious he's entertained if not for his tone then most definitely the large smile brimming from ear to ear.

"No, it's disgusting," Dom joins them at that, strolling towards the group as he uses a towel to scrub at the side of his face, lips twisted into a grimace.

"Hey! Don't use my towel," his best friend protests, unnecessarily, "That's a clean one."

The elder merely fits him with a look and doesn't make any move to halt his actions. "Like you don't have a string of ladies on speed-dial who'll just jump at the chance to provide you with a whole set of new ones."

"It's not my fault I share a home with the boss and his housekeeping staff all happen to be consistently good-looking," is the reply to that, complete with innocent look and hands thrown up like there's nothing he could do about it anyway.

Belle just laughs while Serena nudges Nate in the side, Dom rolls his eyes and Chuck just shrugs; all he's heard them speak so far is the truth.

"I'll give you time to vacate the premises before I call them, shall I?" he says, "Unless you're into that sort of thing."

"Of course you're into that," Belle directs at him, "Explains so much."

Dom groans, closing his eyes and immediately starting to steer the younger by the shoulders towards the elevator.

"Alright, we're leaving," he announces, as he continues to move them in the direction of the exit, though with his eyes squinting at best in his dramatic attempt to shield his view from his little sister and the guy who knocked her up, she does most of the leading. "I do not need to hear about my baby sister's sex-life, especially not pertaining to the guy who managed to get her pregnant."

"Serena!" Belle calls back, "Grab as much as you can!"

"Already on it!" Serena shouts back with a laugh, leaping around them to do just that.

"Wait," Nate catches on as the blonde Bambi prances about the kitchen, collecting up any and all of the treats she can hold, "You're leaving too?"

"I am not sticking around here while you and Chuck sit and leer at his employees and then engage in questionable acts with them," she tells him, turning up her nose at the image and spinning round to make her way towards the duo in the elevator.

"Please, sister," he scoffs at her terminology and chides her pretense at not knowing this about him, "You know I don't dabble in my own supply."

She indulges him with a smile over her shoulder, because she does know, but she still rolls her eyes at his phrasing.

"And why does everyone just assume I'd be with Chuck on this?" Nate asks of them before they have the chance to leave.

"Because, Nathaniel," he schools the other, "That's generally the role of a wingman."

"Which you are to a best friend who also happens to be one of the biggest womanizers Manhattan's ever seen," the elder reminds the other, "Reformed or otherwise," he adds at Chuck's scowl, "And that count includes various stints at monogamy."

"Were it not for the fact I'm carrying your child, he'd likely be impressed," Belle notes with a nod to her brother and a shake of the head.

"What?" Dom asks with faux innocence, arms thrown out to the sides, "I can conduct background checks on people too – and you lot really do not make it a habit to fly under the radar very often."

"Goodbye Dominic," Chuck says to that.

"See you soon!" the elder shoots back in amusement.

Serena is too busy conversing with Belle and showing off the treats she managed to salvage to notice Nate's last-ditch effort for sabotage.

The cupcake sails over the room and through the open doors to smack the blonde right in the chest, causing her to stagger backwards with the blow and reflexively throw her arms up, dropping all of the other baked items in the process.

"Serena!" Belle cries out as the last of her creative endeavor end up on the elevator floor.

"Nate!" Serena shouts, pointing at the real culprit.

"Girls!" Dom joins in, looking between them highly entertained, and receives two glares for his trouble.

Serena fumes as she stares his best friend down, promising, "I'll get you back for that!"

Nate just laughs, replying, "Can't wait to see you try!"

A second later a cupcake flies across the space and hits Nate in the face with a resounding _splat_; sliding down from the target point of his still-healing Lacrosse injury over his lips and dropping from the edge of his chin to land between his feet.

Seconds later, the two left standing in the middle of the carnage that was the last war-zone are bombarded with the remnants of the baked-armory supply.

When the onslaught finally ceases and they emerge from their places, Dom is doubled over with laughter but still manages to offer the girls his hand for high-fives, which they gladly bestow upon him, smug in their victory.

"That's another suit you've attempted to ruin," he directs at Belle when he admits defeat and stops attempting to brush off the icing and crumbs off his body, resigned to let his dry-cleaners attempt to work their magic once more.

The brunette just shrugs while his sister heaves a dramatic sigh and exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. "Sorry," Belle sing-songs to him, and then tells him in a mocking tone not meant to placate in the slightest, "But just know it was sacrificed for a good cause."

"I'll get you back for this," Chuck warns, although there's a teasing lilt to his words and a smirk on his face.

It's Serena who answers; sending them both a gleeful smile as she hilariously repeats his best friend's words: "Can't wait to see you try!"

And then with a flourish she releases the door-hold button and continues to beam at them as the elevator finally performs its function and takes them out of sight and away from the penthouse.

Nate whistles as he takes in the mess they've been left with (that he was mostly the cause of).

"Shower and then bar?" his best friend turns to him to propose.

Eyeing the space around them with mild distaste and strong amusement, he easily agrees.

When they emerge a short while later, washed skin, unblemished hair and clean clothes, they both look up to meet the other's eyes and start to laugh. It's a ludicrous sight; the pair of them, spotless among such chaos; and the actions that led them to this point would be unbelievable were they to include anyone else. As it is, it's just funny.

"I suppose you should get used to this," Nate mentions, gesturing to the disarray of overturned furniture and stained surfaces, "Babies wreak havoc."

He's tempted to respond that his child will have manners and grace and though its father is a notorious schemer and its mother a benefactor of all things ridiculous; their child will do no such thing. And then he remembers how _fun_ it all was, how their laughter had bounced off the walls and their smiles remained even after the last cake had dropped.

He wants that for his child.

"Maybe I'll transfer some of The Empire staff to the house," he muses as they enter the elevator, "I'm sure whatever cleaning duties they are tasked to perform there can't be as bad as any we've left them with here."

He catches his best friend's look of surprise because Nate hadn't quite been expecting that response. Acceptance, encouragement even.

"And what do you mean _I _should get used to this?" Chuck says, sending his best friend a sideways glance as the doors close on their apartment, smirking at the scene as it disappears from view, and of what he's about to set in motion now, "The Godfather has to shoulder half the duties."

Nate's stunned expression, which soon morphs into unadulterated joy, is enough to keep the entertainment flowing well into the night.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>Apologies for the MASSIVE AN I'm about to subject you to, feel free to ignore if you so choose ;)

A/N: I hope I haven't made Mira too Mary-Sue-ish with this chap and the addition of her background, although this one was mostly her best friends, but still it all ties in with various points of character or 'plot' lol  
>For example, their mother's illness gave rise to the plausibility that she'd have amnio done, which in turn led to the question over paternity, and Mira realizing Chuck was the father and hop-scotching it over to see him.<br>Their mother's illness/death also serves the purpose of shaping and defining much of Mira's relationship with her brother, which I hope should be a little clearer now. Such as, Dom's protectiveness and constant attempts to be there for her because he feels he failed her when their mother died and he wasn't able to look after her/stop her from being put in the foster system. In this case, it wasn't that Mira didn't like it, per se, or that she was mistreated, because she wasn't, she simply wanted to be with her brother and couldn't understand why she couldn't be with him. Dom hated the idea that he was the one at fault and yet couldn't seem to move the process along any quicker. He sees it as his fault that his sister was caused more hurt after they'd all (close family friends included) suffered through this huge, life-changing event. Mira's frustration was more with the separation itself than the fact she had to stay with the foster family, which naturally manifested with teenage rebellion at times lol though likely not even on par with what I imagine to be some of the exploits of Chuck and Serena (or the NJBC as a whole).  
>– I should point out that the mother of one of my very best friends is a foster carer and said my best friend was even studying to be a social worker at one point (as is another) so I have the utmost respect for what all those involved go through – on both sides. Like every system, it has its shortcomings, but when it works it's honestly wonderful.<br>(I don't mean to preach or anything, just saying if any disrespect is caused, it's not intentional).  
>I hope this clears things up a bit, with a glimpse into my reasoning for including some parts, but obviously I welcome your opinions – agreeing or disagreeing :)<p>

Thanks so much for reading, please lemme know what you think, means a lot!  
>Steph<br>xxx


	13. Chapter 12

This chap may be my longest yet of course that doesn't necessarily mean the content's any better… but still lol it's reflective of the time it's taken me to update. Life got crazy, what can I say?)  
>Hope you enjoy…<p>

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twelve<span>

.

.

"Thanks for yesterday," Dom says to her after the good morning pleasantries and teasing are out of the way and she's taken a seat at the table.

"No problem," Serena responds easily, tucking her leg beneath her and smiling up at him as he pours her a cup of coffee.

"No, I mean it," he insists, holding her gaze, "I really appreciate what you all did for my sister, letting her vent in her own way."

"It wasn't just for her," she admits, chancing a look up at him.

"I know," he acknowledges, lips curving, eyes softening, "I'm grateful for the distraction you provided for me as well."

"You're welcome." She smiles brighter, takes his hand in hers when he goes to pass her the steaming mug, and tells him sincerely, "Any time."

Naturally that's when Chuck comes strolling into the space and finds the brother of the girl he's having a baby with, standing shirtless over his sister as she sits at his breakfast table in nothing but a man's v-neck t-shirt and boxers. The elder's got a lean build befitting his tall frame, so it's no wonder the top billows somewhat at the blonde's waist from the added pull across her chest. Nor is it that surprising the shorts are a slightly snugger fit than she likely anticipated; they barely even needed to be turned over once at the waistband and still they managed to reveal a large expanse of skin from her long, tanned legs.

"Don't have an aneurysm, Chuck," Dom reassures him on sight, wondering if he should be regretting telling his sister she should really think about giving the other a key to their place. Ever one to take her big brother's advice, apparently she'd gone and done just that, and now look where they stand, "Serena came back with us to get freshened up and ended up staying over."

Chuck raises an eyebrow and then curls his lip. "And you couldn't find anything else for her to wear?"

The elder merely grins and sends a wink to his visitor at that, seemingly unperturbed by both the accusation and insinuation wrapped up in the low growl. "Hey," he simply defends, "Lady's choice."

Serena matches his amused expression and then directs at her brother, "And because I know how your mind works, I'll tell you Dom was a complete gentleman and even gave up his bed for me while he slept on the couch."

"My sister's in even less of a sharing mood bed-wise now she's with child," Dom says by way of explanation, rolling his eyes.

"Which is no fun _whatsoever_, because it ruined my plan to turn the night into a girly sleepover and subject Dom to _all sorts_ of no doubt painful, childish rituals like trying to braid his hair and paint his toenails and making him reveal who he has a _crush _on," the blonde exclaims dramatically, complete with a pout that morphs quickly into a bout of the giggles.

"Nothing untoward happened," Dom assures when he sees Chuck is yet to even crack a smile at their attempts to lighten the mood. "You forget I have a sister of my own," he reminds the other and then with a hard look, "One whom _you _got pregnant."

"Speaking of, I should go and find her," Chuck wisely takes that as his opportunity to leave, "Need to make sure she's still up for going to the house later."

"Oh, but I was going to take her shopping," Serena announces, her tone revealing her disappointment at the possibility of her brother interrupting her plans, "To find a dress to wear for Mom's thing."

Her brother watches her closely, inquiring after a beat, "What _thing_?"

"Ah… I'll let Mira tell you all about it," Serena dodges responsibility and bites her lip; mildly ashamed at putting it all on the other girl, though notably not feeling guilty enough to take the task from her. "But you know you could've just called."

"I thought I'd stop by," Chuck replies, arching a brow as he asks of his sister who doesn't even live there and shouldn't be put out by his appearance in any way, "Is that a crime?"

"Careful, Chuck," Dom comments at this, amused, "You keep getting all protective, everyone'll start to see that caring side of yours and it'll become a permanent fixture."

"Aww," Serena coos like he's the child here, and then bestows her blessing on him with, "It suits you though, Chuck."

"Everything suits me," he replies easily with a roll of the shoulders that suggests he brushes off compliments like hers every day (he does), "I merely wanted to check in on the mother of my child, and ensure _my child _is still safe and in one piece given present company."

"Just admit it," Dom teases instead of biting on that thinly veiled insult, "You like us. You can barely stay away."

"Well soon I won't have a choice in the matter," Chuck snipes.

"And I just can't wait for that day to come," the elder returns though two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth and a tight smile.

"Oh, you boys!" Serena rolls her eyes, shaking her head at them as she nudges the side of the one closest to her and then laughs in the face of their little attempt at another spat.

.

He can hear her speaking before he even reaches the door and the emotion in her voice grips something inside him. He might not be in love with her, but he's in love with what's inside of her and he cares for her. No matter how they both may act or what they might claim otherwise; he does care for her, he knows that much.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he hears her say.

"I'm a big boy," a male voice responds with a touch of mirth, "I managed on my own."

"Still," Belle insists, "we always go together and I took it upon myself to ruin that for no good reason-"

"-you have your reason," the unknown male counters, "A good one at that. And it's more important than me, or the past."

"That past is a part of me," she says to that, and her voice is heavy with the feeling spilling from her words. He can make out each one even through the solid wood between them; yet still, he imagines that's nothing compared to a transatlantic communications link and an open screen to view it all on, "_You _are a part of me."

"Don't," the male says, just as hurt, just as lost in the anguish as she, "Please- just don't."

He hears her sniff, wonders if she's wiping her cheeks of the tears as she tries to swallow the sadness; bury it within once more.

"You should go," the other says next, "You have that meeting."

"Right," she agrees, but he can tell they're both grasping for something that isn't there because they simply can't deal with what is (it's sobering how familiar it all is, Chuck thinks, and he only hopes her outcome will be better than his own was), "So I should."

"Good luck," the yet-to-be-identified male wishes her well, and the sincerity in his words is easy to recognize.

"Thanks," he voice is small, like her; not timid and not quite uncomfortable, but with something close to disbelief coloring her words, before it's washed away with the serious and honest, "You too."

He can't be the guy who constantly resorts to eavesdropping because it seems the easiest way to gather the truth, even if it is preferable to breaking up a moment he's not part of, nor has any wish to be. So he takes a step forward, decision made, (if she refuses to skirt around his issues, he's not about to offer her the courtesy of ignorance either) and knocks on her bedroom door.

He hears Belle comment that it's probably Serena wanting to borrow some clothes, and feels momentarily guilty for not being tall, blonde or of the female persuasion as she calls him through.

She looks up when he enters and though the slight smile on her lips doesn't fall at the sight of him (how considerate of her) it does falter just a touch, and she looks between him and the laptop screen, clearly uncomfortable with this turn of events.

"Is that him?" the other deduces; apparently he's known her long enough to be able to read her reactions and interpret her tells even across a video call.

Belle nods, can't seem to even voice an affirmative.

Chuck stands by the door, knowing even if was to step back outside her room now the damage is already done. He can't undo what's been done, and he's part of it; he needs to see it through to the end.

The other clears his throat as if he's not quite sure what he should say to that, what he _can _say to that, and she somehow manages, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," the male tells her around a laugh that bears no humor, nothing but a stark reminder of the truth that lies between them and leaves their insides scattered and their bodies to roam opposite sides of the globe, "That's why you left, right? To be with him."

"Crispin," she says his name like a plea swathed in an apology she knows will never be enough.

"I'm glad you liked the photo," he addresses instead, "What I did with the place. That's all I wanted."

"I did," she acknowledges and looks set to cry as she nods at his words, and whispers, "Thank you."

A beat later he replies, "Of course," and then follows it quickly with, "Bye Mir."

The connection apparently ends before she has the chance to reply and he wonders if witnessing her own goodbye being left stranded in her throat is worse than it being choked out through a fresh coat of tears and the sound of another piece of her heart being chipped away.

He watches her as she takes a breath; gulping down the thoughts and feelings and words she intended to bestow upon the other, and wipes at her face; dragging herself into the next moment of being as the evidence of what went before is cleared away.

She's closing her laptop over, still yet to look his way when he voices, "Your ex?"

Belle looks up at him and nods, a smile on her lips as she rephrases, "Crispin."

"He seems… he searches for the words to describe the other from what little he'd been privy to of their exchange.

She holds up her hand to stop him from going any further than he's started. "Save it, Chuck," she tells him, "I don't want to hear what you think of him."

He arches a brow, takes a step closer to her. "Oh, so you're allowed to pass judgment on Blair and me, but I'm not allowed to do the same?"

"I can hardly stop you from forming an opinion of him, I just don't have to sit around and listen to it," she responds and he can tell she's in no mood to be baited like this, not when the subject is her and _Crispin_.

She moves towards the side of the bed, pushing her laptop nearer the edge so it's easier to pick up when she moves.

"So if you're just going to stand there acting all high-and-mighty then I'll go, you stay," she tells him, and then stops, turns to him with a frown and says, "Wait, what are you doing here anyway?"

"So nice of you to take a moment out of your own life to realize that other people actually do exist in this world," he notes, giving her a look.

"Shut-up," she scowls, and then confirms what he'd already come to realize on his own, "I'm not in the mood, just tell me."

"I simply came by to see how you and _my unborn child _are doing," he tells her at that, and advances towards her.

She shifts on the bed, moves back round so she's not side-facing him and comments, "You know, I've noticed how whenever you think I'm in the wrong suddenly _our _baby becomes _yours_ alone I do hope this isn't going to become a habit, Charles."

Since he managed to elicit a small smile out of her and he truly does like her better when she smiles, he lets the full-name slide; though he briefly wonders how she'd react if he returned the favor. He doesn't think now is the best time to test any of his theories on the matter.

"Well stop doing or saying things I deem ridiculous and I won't have to act like our child's sole parental influence for the sanity and livelihood of both it and the resounding world," he says in return and then flashes her a quick grin.

Belle throws a pillow at him as he moves to take a seat on the edge of the bed and he just laughs and makes himself comfortable.

"Serena wants to take you out shopping before we go and view the house again later," he mentions, turning to look round at her, cushion twirling in his grasp.

"She still wants to do that?" she asks, and admits with a rueful smile, "I thought she might've forgotten. She and Dom did get pretty drunk last night."

He stays silent, he's still somewhat skeptical about his sister and her brother's story; after all, he knows Serena and he's seen Dom; he's not oblivious to the fact they get on and that they're both better looking than the average New-Yorker.

He clears his throat, specifies in the hope for answers that he doesn't have to discover on his own, "She said she was taking you to buy a dress for Lily's _thing_?"

"Oh yes, that… There might've been something in the paper," is Belle's vague admission.

Chuck's eyes catch onto hers and then fall on the newspaper lying on her bed between them. However, when he moves to relieve her of the very document he imagines she's referring to, she's somehow quicker and pulls it out of his reach.

She scans the page quickly, shimmy-ing back until her back is pressed against the headboard, the pillows on the other side of the bed bunching up behind her with the movement. "On revision, I suppose the main points are accurate."

He shoots her a look as she deliberately prevents him from seeing the print. He can easily get his own copy and since it's not _The Spectator _emblazoned across the front of the folded pages, he imagines Nate will have a few choice words on the matter as well.

"And those are?" he prompts impatiently with a lift of an eyebrow.

"They got your age right, for one, and that we were together in Maui, and that we've recently become reacquainted," she rattles off without much inspection, and then folds the paper and places it under the comforter, pressed down beneath her crossed legs, as she adds, "Oh, and that you're going to be a father."

He's livid; imagines he looks it too. "I'm going to sue them for everything they're worth."

"They were bound to find out sooner or later," she remarks, shrugs; generally appears all-together far too calm about this. He wonders if she's merely refusing to acknowledge the gravity of this current development because she's still reeling from her encounter with _Crispin_. Given his own state whenever he and Blair seem to cross paths, especially of late, he can certainly see the logic in her behavior. "We've hardly been very discreet. Plus, it reads like someone's been doing damage control already. My best bet would be your mother."

"That is a very _Lily _thing to do," he concedes, and then grimaces slightly, "Hence the party."

She groans, and lifts her eyes to his; of course _that _is cause for concern but being outted to society by the media is not. Go figure. "Apparently the preparations have already begun."

"Naturally," he remarks, because that too is typical of the elder; she's nothing if not efficient.

Belle nods, but doesn't look too pleased with his observation or the subject matter.

"I thought you were a _party planner_," Chuck says to that, raising an eyebrow. He was bemoaning the fact he'd now have to share his news with the rest of the Upper East Side, never mind the whole island and indeed wherever it stretches further on the globe. He was sort of hoping he'd get to keep this all to himself for awhile, but he should've known it wouldn't happen like that; he's lived through enough scandal in this world to know better. The extra development on the part of Lily should really be a welcome happenstance for her since"Isn't attending these social and celebratory events sort of in your job description?"

"Not when I'm likely going to look like a whale as I'm introduced to the upper echelons of your society, and then no doubt end up in some gossip column's baby-bump watch. Urgh," she shudders, grimacing at the thought"They're going to reduce to me to hermit status. By the time the baby's born, I won't have seen sunlight for months."

He rolls his eyes; naturally this is the avenue she'd decide to pour her dramatics into. "As opposed to what you're doing right now."

"Hey!" she protests, a slight pout shaping her lips and the words, "I leave the house. I _do _things."

"Oh really?" he returns, amused and not even bothering to hide it now as he prompts, "Like what?"

"Like going to the park for one," she responds, shooting him a look that seems to cry '_so there!'_ (and here he was worrying his child would be thrust into an adult world too early: there'll be no chance of that with Belle and her antics around if he's being completely honest, he's a little glad for it, not that he's likely ever going to tell her that, of course), "I even took Monkey out with me yesterday and risked getting dragged screaming as he chased squirrels or pigeons or whatever took his fancy at every turn."

"How thoughtful of you," he awards her, sarcasm evident even in the smile he sends her way.

"I thought so," she returns, pretending she took him to be sincere though they both know better.

"I'm surprised you managed to fit it in what-with your busy schedule of setting up shop in my kitchen," he remarks, and then informs her, "You know, I had several ladies from housekeeping hint not at all subtly that they should be entitled to a bonus for the mess you lot left behind."

"That was clearly the work of your best friend and sister," she counters, rolling her shoulders and looking the picture of ease, "And it's amazing the things you can fit into a day when the mood takes you."

"Isn't it just," he agrees.

"Right, now I'm going to meet with the lady downstairs about possible themes for her nephew's birthday party, and the possibility of her employing me to organize it," she tells him, swiftly changing topic completely and then adding with a wave of the hand, "She was curious about why we all came back looking like we'd been pushed into a flour mill and then got rained on on the way out, and Serena was only too happy to try to pit the blame on me."

She swings her legs round and rises from the bed, laptop in hand, as she then steps into the black heels that sit by the skirting, dropping down only to fasten the straps. He doesn't comment; he knows she won't listen to him anyway, and as much as he likes a woman in heels, he still doesn't think it's the best practice for a _pregnant_ one.

"What are you doing before we go to the house later?" she asks, placing her laptop down and readjusting her white dress so it falls crease-free over her baby bump. "Want to come with?"

She lets her hands rest there for a moment and he admires the sight before she swipes several folders off the desk into her waiting hand, piling them on top of her laptop and then slipping the bundle into the black bag that conveniently sits on the desk chair next to it.

"As much as I'm sure I'd be thoroughly entertained by the meeting, I actually have things to attend to today," he says; eyes still on her as she lifts the coat from the back of the chair, slipping it on and then securing a large belt around her midriff.

It accentuates her growing stomach and his gaze settles there once more; he doesn't think he'll ever truly get used to it, this idea that there's a tiny being growing within her, and that he's partly responsible for it. That the tiny being is actually part of him and he of it. It's phenomenal.

"Kid's apparently a huge New York Rangers fan so you probably would enjoy yourself," she tells him with a smile as she opens her bedroom door, then she throws him a look over her shoulder as she stands in the frame, considering, "Alternatively, you'd just tell her to get him season tickets or watch a game from the box on his big day and be done with it which will either result in a completely unimpressed potential customer who may or may not end up doing just that, or I'll be shoo-ed out of the place with no hope of using her to build a potential client base. So you're right, maybe it's best you don't accompany me."

He pauses, stops to truly look at her for the moment as he marvels somewhat and asks, "You remember that?"

Her shoulders lift in what would be nonchalance if the weren't both aware of it being anything but, "You mentioned your Dad supported them and you got him tickets once to celebrate the anniversary of starting his company; is that right? Well, it seemed important."

"I guess it was at the time," he muses, but won't let himself fall into memories of that time; it's taken him this long to get where he is, he won't let the past keep trying to drag him back down.

She gives him a small smile. "Does that mean I should expect my child to virtually live in those box seats and be Rangers mad before they can even walk?"

He chuckles, shakes his head, and then thinks about it, "Maybe. Probably not."

She shrugs. "Well I suppose it would give you both a hobby."

"I have hobbies," he counters, looks at her like she knows this about him and she should stop trying to pretend otherwise.

Belle raises an eyebrow at that, and remarks, "Certain proclivities involving the female body and consuming copious amounts of alcohol don't count."

"Whatever, hermit," Chuck throws back at her with a small smirk and then nudges her out the door, "You're going to be late."

.

After finally getting Serena to agree to rescheduling their shopping date, and convincing her it wasn't Chuck's fault, he dropped her off at her apartment. He was actually all set to go to work on his own projects when he noticed that his dearest sister had left her phone in the limo. When the blasted thing didn't stop sounding each and every notification and alert it received (seriously, he's well aware of Serena's popularity, but this is excessive, even for her) he finally gave in and with a groan ordered Arthur to return to her apartment.

And naturally, because life just cannot seem to give him a break lately, the blonde is nowhere to be found and instead he's greeted by an all-too-familiar brunette instead.

"Chuck," Blair announces, eyeing him shrewdly, "What are you doing here?"

"I was just dropping Serena's phone off," he returns, "She left it in the limo earlier. Unsurprising given she probably forgot there were pockets in the coat she was wearing since she can't claim ownership of it, but still I thought she might miss it."

"And you couldn't wait for her to come by and retrieve it herself?" she asks, eyeing him.

He wants to sigh, because he can think of better reasons to gain access to her apartment, and he can certainly think of better excuses to see her than this one.

"Like I said," is his succinct reply, "I thought she might miss it."

"Oh I don't know," she muses, and suddenly their words have taken on more subtext, "I'm sure she'd have found something else to occupy her time."

"From the state of her undress, I'd say you might be right," he replies instead; refusing to twist it back like she wants, to what may or may not be going on in either of their lives right now.

"Nate didn't have anything of hers left in his closet?" Blair inquires like she's innocent and ignorant of what's been going on and no one could accuse her of anything different, "You couldn't have had your staff bring something up for her?" She shakes her head, marvels, "Your standards really are slipping, Bass," and then rolls her eyes as she comments, "Then again, this is Serena we're talking about; one of her favorite pastimes used to be traipsing through Central Park in her slip. So I suppose I should be congratulating you on the fact you managed to get her to wear more than that single layer alone."

"Actually she spent the night at a friend's last night and all that was offered to her didn't fit," he comments, and thinking back on how the blonde went from the oversized clothes of the brother to the petite measurings of the sister; he's still not sure which look could be considered better. Thankfully Belle's apparently amassed an overabundance of Burberry Macs and Trench-coats over the years, which Serena was only happy to discover and search through for some form of cover-up.

She _hmphs_ and he can't even take the slightest amount of pleasure at being privy to something she isn't, because this isn't the way it's supposed to be and for some reason she seems to be either blind to it or simply unwilling to accept that it's happening. Even before his relationship with Belle could be used as a wedge between them, it was like Blair lately was only playing at being Serena's best friend, less time, less effort; as if she had more important people to attend to than the girl she'd grown up with. That hurts in its own way because he loves his sister, and he loves her too, and everyone who's anyone knows (or at least they _should _know) that Blair and Serena come first. For their sake and everyone else's, the friendship between blonde and brunette should always be placed in higher regard than any other.

"While I'm here, Blair," he announces, clearing his throat, his thoughts, "Apparently word has gotten out about my situation with Belle, and Lily's organizing an event to properly announce the news."

She eyes him, shrewd as ever. "And you're worried about what I might say to sully your reputation or tarnish the night for you and your family?"

"I wouldn't presume to be able to predict what you might do anymore, Blair," he tells her honestly, because he'd meant it when he said that she's changed, that she's different; she's not his Blair anymore, not one he really recognizes at all of late, "I just thought I'd inform you of what's going on."

"Well, I imagine I'll be in attendance," she says primly, arms crossed defensively in front of her, "Given I'm dating Lily's step-son."

"If that's the night you wish to step out as a couple, who am I to stop you?"

She pauses, seems to process his words; realizes how it would look if she chose that night, _his _night, to announce her relationship with Dan to society.

"Not to mention I'm your step-sister's best friend."

"Adoptive," he corrects and when she furrows her brow at his immediate amendment, he clarifies, "Serena's Dan's step-sister; she's my adoptive sister. So there shouldn't be a prefix between ours."

"I know that," she defends, still watching him closely, "It's just how you've always referred to one another."

Sure, it's how everyone _else _has always referred to them, but he's been feeling a tad more family-orientated of late. Plus, Blair's pissing him off so Chuck's not really in the mood to make any of this easy for her when she seems set on refusing to do the same for him.

"Actually, I took to calling her _sis _before we even moved in together," he reminds her, meets her eyes and keeps them there, "But lately I've realized that terming us step-siblings would be to put me on par with Humphrey and I think it's common knowledge by now that my family doesn't regard me in the same light as your boyfriend."

She shifts, because there are so many responses she could give to this, and yet she's not quite sure what to say. It's true, while certainly fond of Dan; it is undeniable how much Lily cares for Chuck. In fact, since Blair started dating him, and spending more time in Brooklyn at his father's loft, it couldn't be more obvious where the loyalties of the elder lay within the make-up of her family. And while no one could argue Rufus loves his son (and daughter), it could be still questioned whether he really cares for Chuck at all or merely tolerates his presence for his wife's sake. The relationships both males share with the van der Woodsen siblings may have their similarities, but they're also coupled with stark differences. So, he's right, and she can see this; but she doesn't know what he's asking of her.

"Is this some ultimatum?" she questions, "Is this your way of trying to get between us? Either Dan and I choose to attend your little gathering together and we're accused of trying to upstage you and your little pregnant mistress; or we go separately or not at all and are later questioned on whether we've been hiding our relationship all this time, if it's because we're ashamed or simply scared of what others would think."

"To be honest, Blair, I could care less about the problems this might cause for your new relationship," he responds, and he means it. Just because he loves her, can't imagine the day when he won't, doesn't mean she has to dictate his life and everything in it. Clearly she has no issue putting him in his place, so now he thinks maybe it's about time he started to do the same, "I just found out that major events in my personal life were leaked to the press for all of society to see and now there's an event being held in my honor to try and contain public perception on the matter. I'm only telling you out of courtesy and because it happens to be on my mind and because I'm currently sharing the same space as you."

Her eyes are on him throughout his little speech and it takes her a short while, but she finally she says, "If that's how you feel."

She looks seriously put out and he'd feel for her, he really would, if it didn't seem like she's been so determined to see the worst in him lately that she refuses to see anything else.

"I've no doubt you'll do whatever you think will benefit you the most," he tells her, and because he does love her, can't imagine the day when he won't; he lets his mouth twist upwards with the addition, "If there's one certainty in life, it's that Blair Waldorf will always find a way to come out on top."

She takes the compliment in his words and gifts him with a small smile.

He nods in acknowledgement, and lets the small quirk of his lips remain there before he swallows and says, "I'll see myself out" and then moves to do just that.

He refuses to acknowledge the fact that he noticed, nor dwell on any possible meaning for the fact that her eyes don't leave him as he leaves her. She watches him as he goes, gaze set on his retreating frame, blinking only in time with the elevator doors as they shut between them.

.

"I thought we agreed I'd pick you up, that we'd come here together," he calls over to her when he finally manages to place her in the large, open expanse of their house.

She turns at his voice, and he's a little worried she didn't seem to register his presence before that. A little worried that she didn't call or text or even get her brother to pass on a message to him; she'd simply come here without him and not said a word.

"Chuck," she acknowledges, but she doesn't seem quite with it, and he frowns. "Yeah, I'm sorry." She shakes her head and waves her hand around, dismissing her absence and then running her fingers through her dark locks, seemingly in the midst of gathering her bearings once more.

She looks up at him, and he's still frowning, still watching her closely.

He was going to ask her how her meeting went, how her day's been; likely resulting in the same being returned to him in the moments following, but instead he asks, "What was yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" she repeats and looks down, starts shuffling around papers and photographs and all sorts, like she'll look anywhere but at him.

He nods, echoes his previous words and steps forward, placing his hands over hers to halt her distracted movements and make her actually direct her attention onto him and what he's asking of her.

"Yesterday was… she trails off, and then exhales, looks irritated all of a sudden, brushing off his hands as she lifts her head and says resolutely, "I told you what it was; you had me on edge from _being on the edge_ and when I get like that I stress bake. It's not my fault our siblings and your best friend decided to make a food fight out of it in your living room!"

"Hey!" He steps towards her again, this time placing his hands on her upper arms, steadying her where she stands. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what?" she demands, and she's angry, he can tell; except when her eyes flash and she blinks harshly in light pulling her gaze away from him, there's pain there, hurt, and he'd recognize those anywhere. "What do you want from me?"

He's caught between _nothing _and _everything_; because this is not the same brunette he's been in love with for as long as he's known the concept, and it's not what either of them want, or need, anyway.

Instead he tells her, "I want to know what yesterday was. I want to know why you were really so upset to find me on the roof and why you felt so stressed you had to bake that much to relieve it and I want to know why you're lying to me about it all now."

"I'm not lying, I..." her insistence dies on her tongue before she can fully formulate the argument and she sighs, shoulders deflating, "I don't know how to do this, ok?"

"Do what?" he probes.

"This!" she exclaims, and pulls her arms up to free herself from his and emphasize what she means all at once. "I don't know how to do this!"

She steps back while he stays where he is.

"I don't love you and you don't love me, but we're having a baby together that we love and I just don't know how to do this," she admits, shaking her head, and exhaling before her next words, "You love Blair, but she's off with someone else and everything's so screwed up right now, so God only knows what's going to happen with that and I- I love Crispin and I..."

"Is that what this is about?" he asks, picking up on what happened earlier and her reluctance to speak of it even now, "Your ex? Is that what yesterday was about? What this is about?"

"Would you just stop talking about yesterday?" she screams at him all of a sudden and her hands are on her face, dragging through her fringe, shielding her eyes, covering her ears. "I don't want to talk about yesterday! I don't want to _think_ about yesterday. Ok?"

He doesn't accept, because suddenly everything starts to click into place and he honestly doesn't think it's good for any of them if he pretends otherwise. Especially if they're soon to play happy families to the rest of New York society in the hotel that he built, and then try it out for real in the home that he's building.

"The story," he says, "You told me the story about your best friend. You told me what happened to your best friend and your ex and their parents and your Mom. That was yesterday, wasn't it? That's what it was- _when _it was. The car accident, the day your mother died- yesterday was her anniversary."

"Can you just stop?" she demands and he's never seen her look like this; like she could actually fall apart if he doesn't stop pulling at the strings that have so delicately, so precariously, been holding her together all this time.

"No," he tells her, resolute, "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

She blinks, doesn't look like she's about to oblige him any time soon.

"One minute you're divulging things to me about your past and your family, the next you're laughing and joking with my sister and my best friend, and then I walk in on you chatting with your ex and though you were undoubtedly upset you seemed upbeat when we last spoke, and now… he sighs, because he's truly at a loss here.

When people fall apart around him it's… it's _other people _who fall apart. He only pays heed to it if it involves Nate or Serena or _Blair_ and that would result in him actually having a better, more informed idea of what to do (even if he was the cause he'd have an idea of what to provide as solution). Only this isn't other people and it's not his sister or his best friend or the love of his life and he's not the cause and he has no clue as to what to do to solve it. This is Belle and as far as he knows she doesn't fall apart, and she especially doesn't do it in front of him.

"What's going on with you?" he asks of her, and he genuinely wants to know, which is a little startling because Chuck Bass is not a therapist and he's still not the share-and-care type of guy and quite frankly, his advice should come with a fee it's so inspiring and quote-worthy. You can hold him to that too, because he always delivers.

He says her name, puts his hand beneath her chin, ignores her flinch at his touch and tilts her face upwards. He stares her down, stares her down so she can't look away; so she has to face him, has to answer him.

"If you don't tell me I can't help you," he says, trying to coax a smile out of her, a word of response, anything. He's not desperate, but caring for someone is exhausting.

"You can't help me," she tells him with a shake of the head, "Not with this."

"I don't know if you've heard," he responds to that; knows if this doesn't get those lips of hers to curve upwards nothing will, "But _I'm Chuck Bass_."

She laughs at that, and his lips curve upwards; he does so enjoy making a pretty girl smile.

"You have many talents," she awards him, "But I'm afraid this one's a bit of a stretch out-with even your capabilities."

"Try me," he relishes the challenge already.

She shrugs, gives him a small sad smile like it's a shame he lost, but so has she.

"I miss my mum," Belle admits.

Oh.

"I didn't go home and see her yesterday with Crispin and I do that every year so Cas is mad at me for making him go it alone and Tomo's mad at me because people still consider me part of his brother's life and Crispin's… he's not mad at all, which makes me mad because he shouldn't be ok with this and he's not, I know that, but he's more than I deserve, and yet I still want him and-"

He closes what little space is left between them and pulls her forward into him, ignoring her surprise or any attempt at a protest.

"You want to take a breath?" he asks, still engulfing her.

She looks up from her place in his arms and nods, but there are fresh tears on her cheeks and more words on her tongue.

"I knew Dom didn't want to go back and I just used it as an excuse; if my brother didn't have to go back and deal with the past, why should I?"

He nods because that's understandable, and really who is he to judge anyone for trying to run from their past? Most of his life has been spent doing just that.

"I thought when we went for the scan, I'd have something else to think about, a new memory to associate with that day," she discloses, but shakes her head, upset and annoyed with herself for even considering it a viable option; for even entertaining the possibility such a thing was possible, "but it's not the same. I can't just replace one with the other."

"You don't need to replace one life with another," he replies, because she doesn't and she can't. He knows a little something about that too: the waters are too murky, you end up crossing shipping lanes; and when you think you're lost entirely somehow you end up on the route to home.

"I know that, I do," she nods, seems to accept what he's saying, and takes a deep breath before saying, "I lied to you though- before. I was a shitty friend when I was twelve years old and I'm still a shitty friend now eight years later."

He tilts his head and fits her with a look because she's verging into her dramatics again, just when he thought they were starting to make progress.

"And I'm sorry you have to deal with mood swings coupled with unresolved grief issues of the poor little orphan girl you were unfortunate enough to knock up."

He can't help but chuckle at that, and he pulls her in close again. "You're not the only one suffering here," he assures her, "In fact, I'm probably more screwed up than you are."

Her laugh is wet from the tears and she shakes her head against his chest. "Doubtful."

He pulls away, looks down at her in all seriousness and tells her, "Well, for one, I was a dick to Blair today. I basically baited her into coming to Lily's announcement party for us with Humphrey on her arm, just to see what she'd do."

"Well she was a dick to you first," Belle mutters in response.

He laughs and then reasons, "While that may be true, it still doesn't justify me virtually taunting her now. Not with this."

"What are you going to do?" she inquires, and she seems genuinely curious.

"I don't know," he tells her, "Honestly, I'm not quite sure how to act around her these days. I see less and less of the Blair I've grown up with in this woman who flitters around bearing her name, but spends most of her time in Brooklyn with Humdrum Humphrey on her arm. And it's not even just that she doesn't want to be with me, she used to put her friends first no matter what and now… "

"Well I suppose, in fairness to the girl, we did drop a fairly big bomb on her with the whole pregnancy thing," Belle reasons, "Maybe she just needs time to work out how to be your friend again. How to be friends with all of you when you're so wrapped up in baby-mania," she even sends him an honest looking apology then, "Sorry."

"I know, but it's more than that," he says, and he truly believes it; because there has to be more to this, to her; there has to be some form of logical explanation for all of this, "She was acting different even before you arrived and we all found out about the baby. I just- I can't help but feel like this is the result of some post-traumatic stress disorder."

She gives him a look. "Chuck, I know you rank yourself _very _highly in the world, but it is possible your break-up didn't cause her to develop PTSD or a post-natal depression-like disorder. There is a chance Blair's actually just trying to forget about you and move on by rebounding with someone who is absolutely _not _you," she shrugs, adds for emphasis, "It happens."

Except he's stuck on the words 'post-natal depression' and what they mean and what they could mean for her and –

"The baby," it comes out but a murmur as his lips press together in a tight line.

She fits him with another look, this time close to rolling her eyes, "Our baby's fine, Chuck, I did not fall in my _ridiculously high and irresponsibly strapped heels,_ nor did I _collapse under the weight of my far-too-heavy laptop bag and abundance of needless folders_ I insisted on taking with me earlier, nor did I even-"

"No," he says, stops her from saying any more because he knows their baby's alright and she's only teasing him now, but this happened and it was real and it hurt, "Not our baby, our baby's ok, our baby's here."

She's frowning because she doesn't quite understand and she'd joke about him going around impregnating all these other girls if he didn't look so upset and quite frankly traumatized.

"Chuck," she reaches over, grips what she can of his arm with her small hand; barely bigger than a child's really.

"Her baby," he intones, meeting her eyes, "Blair's baby."

She doesn't say anything, because this is well this is huge.

"She was pregnant and we were going to be together- that's where we were going that night, we were going to tell her fiancé and we were going to be together, going to be a family… and then the limo hit the wall and everything changed," he blinks, comes back to the present from another memory from his all-too-painful past, "Blair lost the baby."

She doesn't say anything and for the longest moment, neither does he; what do you say to that? There are no words of comfort you can offer. You cannot change what has happened.

Yet still he finds himself looking to the woman carrying his child and asking of the one whose child would have been raised in the same way, "Do you think it's possible for someone to lose themselves when they lose a child?"

She swallows, bites her lips and nods.

He nods as well, because he thinks so too.

"I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I lost our baby," she reveals quietly, "I don't think I'd know how."

And suddenly it's like tonight has been a night of epiphanies, because things are starting to make sense. How could he possibly expect her to be the same person? How could he even imagine she'd her to be the same Blair he's always known? She lost her _baby_. Of course that would affect her, of course she'd try and run as far and as fast as she could from the reality of that. It happened and it was real and it hurt.

"I don't think Blair does either."

Belle nods, because she can well imagine and it's a terrible, terrifying thought that she'd never wish on anyone, least of all the love of Chuck's life (least of all him).

A few minutes pass and they stand before the windows that open out onto the garden she specifically asked of him that he magnificently provided. She says his name quietly and it travels around the space, her quiet tone carrying out the open latch to the green and the dark outside their four walls.

"If she's not dealt with it, if this is her way of coping, you have to let her," she says softly, the words breaking up even as they're carried the short distance between her and him; like she wishes she didn't have to, like she wishes they weren't true. "She'll get through it and she'll be stronger for it and she'll come back to you."

He lifts his head, twists it back to look right into her, "You really believe that?"

"We have to, right?" she replies, cracks a smile, lets the hope shine from her eyes because even she can't make her lips lift any higher.

He drops his head, nods, and it's her turn this time to hold him close.

He murmurs, "Right," into her shoulder and she pretends not to feel the dampness seeping into her skin, like a brand they both now share.

.

**_TBC…_**

* * *

><p>I should say for this chap and any future ones: I do love Blair really, but this is set in those weeks we didn't get to see between 5x17 and 5x18 so she's still all about Dan, and as per canon hasn't really returned to the NJBC or started to look for her 'old self' yet. Remember she was snippy with Chuck and the rest in the episodes that followed before the more recent ones when she seemed to remember that there's life outside her most-recent relationship lol don't wory there should be moments of CB hope in between the meanness)<p>

Also, apparently has taken to destroying punctuation again so I'm currently trying to sort out the absent dashes, semi colons, colons and whatnot. However, some just won't reappear so I apologise if there seems to be an abundance of ellipses or commas at various points in my fics.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, it means a lot)  
>Steph<br>xxx


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